


see you on the other side of the war

by Lise



Series: Remember This Cold [68]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Point of View, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Remember This Cold, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 31,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5309678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not alone in this, after all. </p><p>Steve and Loki in Remember This Cold, through alternate eyes. Short pieces with different points of view of various moments in the series (shown or missing scenes).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natasha - Collapse the Light Into Earth

**Author's Note:**

> So! More crossposting, and these I'm going to stick in one place because it would upset my sense of order otherwise (and I plan to write more of these anyway, because I have a _thing_ for outsider POV and also just alternate POVs, so. (And other people seem to like them?? Which, cool.)
> 
> These will not be in chronological order. Sorry about that. Chapter summaries will contain a note of whose point of view it is, and where it is set in the series. 
> 
> Thanks, y'all, for continuing to follow this series, and leave me nice comments on every installment of it. You guys are amazing, for real. (Also, if you're at all interested in Steve/Loki - there is a Holiday Exchange happening! [Check it out](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com/post/134172476555/holidaystoking-for-the-first-time-this) \- the more the merrier.
> 
> This first chapter is from Natasha's point of view and is set during "Collapse the Light Into Earth."

Natasha had a thousand and one contingency plans.

For the most part, she made them more out of habit than any real expectation. Plans for every worst case scenario she could think of. She’d even had one in place for this one:  _something happens to Steve and Loki goes off the rails._

Something.  _Weak, Romanoff._ She’d known what  _something_ really meant. The place where Steve had been was still a raw wound and if she let it it could cripple her, but Natasha wasn’t going to let it. That was what she did, after all: keep going right up until she bled dry.  _Rest when you’re dead._

So: there was a plan for this scenario. Or there had been. But the plan hadn’t taken into account the fact that Loki’s  _off the rails_ felt pretty damn reasonable, and the fact that taking him off the board didn’t feel like quite the simple solution it might’ve before. And there was Barnes, too - another complication. And Thor, and she kept thinking  _what would Steve want._ Contingency plans changed. 

 _We bring them in,_ she’d said, and no one had argued with her. 

But saying that was easier than doing it. Loki was - all right, she could admit it - he was good. The magic probably helped, but it was still impressive, and the part of her seething with fury couldn’t help but think  _good_ every time she got another report of another HYDRA base hit even as it made a shiver run down her spine. Because if Loki finished with HYDRA and kept going - that body count could get ugly fast. And it was _damned_ hard to catch up. 

In the end, she was reduced to squatting outside of one of the few known bases that hadn’t been hit and waiting. On her own, though micced so Clint could hear her, and he was only a mile or so out. It was a risk, but Natasha thought it was less of one than making Loki feel like he was being cornered. 

So she waited, and tried to keep her mind busy and no consider all the ways this could go horribly wrong.

* * *

In  the end it only took about a week. She didn’t see them arrive, but she heard gunfire starting, and shouting. One person staggered out of the front doors and made it a few steps before collapsing. From her vantage point, Natasha considered approaching and decided against it. Her unexpected arrival would only be a distraction. 

“Targets arrived,” she said, for Clint’s benefit. “Will attempt to make contact shortly.”

She waited until the shooting died down into silence before climbing down from her perch and approaching the building, standing in plain sight and waiting again. She expected she would be seen. Another gamble, but one that seemed to pay off: a few minutes later Loki came striding out of the doors. 

Natasha felt herself coil tight, partly in reaction to his clothing - leather and armor. There were a few splashes of blood visible on the metal and on his hands, but less than she would have expected. Mostly, though, it was the way he was moving - every inch a predator. A killer. She kept her face smooth and hoped her reaction didn’t show. 

Loki’s steps hitched for just a moment when he recognized her, but he didn’t turn around. Natasha set her feet and swept a quick, appraising gaze over him. She didn’t like what she saw. Skinnier than usual, and his eyes burned out of hollow, dark sockets. His expression otherwise was like a mask.  _This is going to be fun._

“Agent Romanoff,” he said blandly.

“Loki,” she said, matching his tone. “Long time no see.”

“I have been busy,” Loki said. The lack of emotional affect was…unnerving. The last she’d seen him had been…the opposite end. Natasha didn’t think this was progress. “How did you find me?”

Natasha wanted to laugh.  _Follow the trail of bodies._ “I wasn’t sure I would. But you’re not exactly being subtle,” she pointed out. Loki’s mouth tugged at one corner, though his eyes remained unchanged. 

“I am not exactly trying to stay unnoticed.”

A part of Natasha analyzed that remark, seemingly so careless.  _Was he hoping to be followed? Does he_ want  _to come back and just thinks he can’t? Or is he trying to bring all of HYDRA down on his head?_ No, that was a definite  _yes._ It was just a question of how determined Loki was to defeat them before self destructing. She was pretty sure there wasn’t much of a question of the self-destruction part.“Is there anyone alive in there?” She asked, nodding toward the building and changing the subject. Loki lifted his chin just a fraction.

“No.” He seemed to expect a reaction, so Natasha didn’t give him one. “Are you going to tell me I have to stop?”

Natasha considered. Loki was expecting judgment, clearly. She wasn’t going to give him that, either - even if there had been any, and there wasn’t. “No,” she said. “But I am going to tell you that you’re killing Thor. He’s terrified for you.” A careful, calculated risk - but things had changed, and she thought it might be a safe one. And it was true. Thor wore his heart on his sleeve in a way that was almost embarrasing for her. She caught Loki’s very slight twitch; so that touched him, somewhere. He hadn’t completely shut down. That seemed like a good sign. If she leveraged this carefully…she might be able to reel him in.

“I am not going to come back,” Loki said, though. Natasha felt an odd pang of alarm, something in the words setting off bells in the back of her brain. Not surprising ones, but the fact that Loki was saying them to  _her_ was more worrying than guessing. 

“You’re not going to come back yet,” she tried correcting, to see what kind of reaction she’d get. Not much of one, which could either mean Loki hadn’t made up his mind about what he was going to do or that he had and didn’t see any point in discussing it. Natasha set her teeth, mentally digging in her heels.  _Oh no you don’t. I said I was bringing you in and I’m going to bring you in._ “What about Barnes?” Loki had some kind of connection to him. Maybe not friendship, but something. If she could play on that sense of responsibility… “Is he alive? Safe?” 

“Ask him,” Loki said, turning his head slightly. Natasha followed his gaze and picked out a figure on the roof. She wondered how long he’d been there. Hard to make out much of anything. “What do you want, Agent Romanoff?” Loki asked, pulling her attention back to him. 

She considered her next words carefully, but spoke them bluntly. “You look like hell.”

Loki shifted, minutely. She was making him uncomfortable. Natasha wondered what kind of uncomfortable it was. If she pushed too hard he might run, but if she didn’t push enough… “Flattering as ever,” he said flatly. “Have a care. Your praise will go to my head.”

“I’m serious, Loki.” Honesty, she thought. He wouldn’t like it, but it might reach him. “And I’ve gotta ask - is this really helping?”

She was watching him closely enough to see the brief crack in his mask before his eyes shuttered. What was underneath it, though… “I would expect you of all people to understand revenge,” he said. Lashing out, she thought. Trying to get a rise, maybe. Trying to push her away. She wasn’t particularly surprised.  _I have you now,_ she thought, maybe a little recklessly.

“I also know how empty it can be,” she said, gently. With someone else, she might have reached out, then. With Loki she kept her distance and watched a small shiver run through him.  _Careful._ She didn’t want to break him completely. Just break enough. And she was close. So close. _Come on. You’re tired, you’re hurting._

Oddly, she realized, it wasn’t just that she didn’t want to lose. She didn’t want to lose  _Loki._ Maybe it was just that it would be too much like failing Steve (again). Maybe not. Natasha set it aside to look at later. 

“I know it hurts,” she went on. “But remember what I said? You don’t have nothing. You and Barnes can come in.” She considered mentioning Thor again, and decided against it.  _Lightly._ “HYDRA isn’t going to survive this, and you don’t have to take them down on your own.”  _This isn’t letting go of vengeance._

Whether they’d actually let him keep going - well. Natasha was pretty sure once Loki was back in the Tower Thor was never going to let him out of his sight again. And she’d recommend a suicide watch, personally, though she doubted Loki was the type to actually kill himself. But he’d surprised her before, when he’d surrendered himself to Asgard.

She could see Loki wavering. Natasha held very still, waiting, watching his face as he hovered on the edge of decision. 

She didn’t hear the shot itself, but she heard the sound as it struck flesh and saw Loki’s hand fly up to his neck, his eyes widening. Natasha froze, her eyes fixing on the dart that Loki pulled from his skin. He looked at it and then turned his eyes slowly to look at her.

Fear washed through her, brief and intense, even as another part of her thought  _get down, look for the attacker. Fuck,_ fuck- “Loki,” she said, urgently. “That wasn’t me, I didn’t know anyone else was here-”

 _“What’s going on?”_  She heard Clint’s voice in her ear, and muted it, holding her hands out, palms up.  _Believe me, please believe me-_

Loki didn’t lash out at her, though. But he wasn’t wavering anymore, either, and Natasha felt the moment slipping through her fingers. “You’re wrong,” he said. His voice was already starting to slur and Natasha tried to calculate the distance, if she could grab him before he pulled away, if he would hurt her if she did. “We do have to take them on our own.”

“No,” she started to say, “no, Loki, listen to me,” but he was gone. She looked toward Barnes, but he had vanished too. 

Natasha swore, balling her hands into fists and trying not to scream, scanning the sky and the horizon - but she couldn’t see anything. If she found out who had fucked this up for her-

The anger only went so far, though. Natasha ducked back into cover, just in case, and squeezed her eyes shut. Gone. She’d lost her chance. And whatever had hit Loki - could just be a tranquilizer. Could be something worse.

She pounded her fist against her thigh. She’d had him. She’d  _had_ him. 

_I am not coming back._

_“Tasha?”_ Clint sounded alarmed.  _“Tell me what’s going on! Where’s Loki?”_

“Gone,” she said, heavily. “Someone fired on him. Hit him with something. He took off.” She felt her shoulders sag. “Come and pick me up? I think we’re done here.”

A long silence. Natasha tried not to wonder if Clint was relieved. It would be fair if he were, she knew. For herself, she couldn’t stop thinking  _I’m sorry, Steve._

_God, I’m sorry._

If she’d believed in an afterlife, maybe Natasha could’ve told herself that when Loki imploded at least he might wind up with Steve, and maybe that’d be better. But she didn’t, and couldn’t. And she knew there was a fair chance that Loki imploding might end up meaning the Avengers having to take him out.

If she’d talked faster, or said something different-

_Stop it. Don’t be stupid._

Natasha leaned her head back against the wall and tried to clear out her thoughts while she waited for her ride.


	2. Bucky - Collapse the Light Into Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky watches Loki go down. (Set during "Collapse the Light Into Earth".)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise not all of these are from "Collapse"! Just a few of them. There's a lot of grist for the angst mill that is my brain there, okay? (When did Loki & Bucky weird friendship get so important to me. Seriously, when did that happen.)

Bucky watched through the scope of his sniper rifle as Loki strode out of the building and toward their visitor - Black Widow, Natalia Romanova, he identified, and whatever Loki had said he kept his finger close to the trigger. Loki might be smart but that didn’t mean he wasn’t stupid as hell sometimes, and Bucky wasn’t about to let him waltz off a cliff without backup. 

Bucky knew a little about the Black Widow. Enough to know that even on her own she might qualify as a cliff.

He couldn’t hear what she said, or what Loki responded, though he could read the tension in Loki’s shoulders easily enough. The guy liked to pretend that he was inscrutable, but he’d gotten a whole hell of a lot less so since…since. Bucky suspected that was probably a bad thing, but then everything about this hell of a situation was a bad thing. 

Except for the building full of dead HYDRA agents. That was fine. 

He focused the scope on Black Widow, watching her face. Her expression wasn’t the steel hardness he remembered, but it was hard to say how much of that was real. Loki’s back was enough to him that he couldn’t see his expression, though just as he thought it Loki turned his head slightly and Romanova looked right at him. Bucky twitched but kept his fingers steady.

He wondered if Romanova was luring them into a trap or trying to bring them in. And if the latter, then why? For what purpose? Maybe, he thought briefly, it would be smarter to join forces. 

If he wanted to keep Loki alive - and he did, whatever  _Loki_ wanted - extra eyes couldn’t hurt. But he didn’t want to end up back in a locked room. Or worse. And this time-

(This time Steve wouldn’t be coming to visit.)

The thought distracted him for a split second, made the dull, constant ache flare up like a stab in the gut, and so he missed what happened - just saw Loki jerk, his hand flying up to his neck like he’d been stung. Too late, he heard the drone of a plane and stood up, scanning the sky.

He looked back at the tarmac, but Loki had already vanished from Romanova’s side and appeared beside Bucky, almost falling. Bucky didn’t think, dropping the rifle and catching him before he dropped. “There’s a plane coming in,” he said, as Loki stumbled, clearly struggling to stand. “Can you get us out of here?” 

“Hhhnn,” Loki said, his eyelids fluttering, slumping into Bucky. He felt his heart start to pound. Like he’d been stung - or shot. With something - he checked Loki’s neck but couldn’t see a mark, very little blood. No way of knowing what he’d been hit with.

“Loki,” Bucky tried again, hearing the harsh note in his voice. This time Loki didn’t respond at all. He dropped them down below the ledge, out of sight, closed his eyes for a moment to pray this didn’t get him killed, and slapped Loki across the face. 

He inhaled sharply but his eyes opened a sliver. He didn’t lash out, which was a relief, but also worrying. “Sorry,” Bucky apologized breathlessly. “Come on. Can you get us out of here?”

“Out,” Loki mumbled, and then there was that lurching feeling of inversion - was it just him or did it feel more lurching than usual? Loki’s dead weight tripped him up as they landed, almost dragging him to the ground. His eyes were still open, but barely - glassy and fogged. 

“Poison or tranquilizer,” Bucky asked, trying to catch his attention, though if it was the former he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Maybe there was some kind of magic antidote? If he could at least keep Loki  _conscious-_ but he was fading fast. Bucky dropped down to his knees and rubbed his knuckles,  _hard,_ on Loki’s sternum. He jerked with a small noise of protest, but his eyes opened again. “Loki, focus,” Bucky snapped, trying to make his voice sound firm instead of scared. “Is it poison or a tranquilizer? Can you tell?”  _What do you need me to do?_  He wanted orders. Someone to give him some kind of  _direction,_ and that desire scared him too.

“Not poison,” Loki mumbled, his voice slurred and barely audible. Then he paused, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t…think.” That wasn’t reassuring. Especially when Bucky knew even if it  _was_ just a tranq, if the dose wasn’t calculated  _perfectly_ it could have the same end result. 

“You don’t  _think?”_ He could hear the shrill note in his own voice. 

“Mmm,” Loki said, his head lolling to the side. “I suppose we will find out.” His eyes drifted closed, his breathing slowing as his face went slack. 

“Fuck,  _fuck!”_ James said, to no response. “Loki-” He tried the sternum rub again, to no avail. Jammed his fingers against Loki’s neck and if he felt cool there was still a pulse - though it felt slow and faint. Was that normal for an alien. Fuck if he knew. 

He shoved himself to his feet and paced away, only to turn around and come back. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed at Loki. “Don’t you  _dare_ quit on me and leave me in this weird nowhere place-” His voice cracked and gave out, and Loki stayed immobile, didn’t so much as twitch. 

Still breathing. For now. Bucky ran his hands into his hair and yanked, rocking backward and forward, hovering on the edge of something not quite panic and not quite rage. 

_Stay calm. Lose it and you’re no good to anyone. And you’re the only one here._

_What would Steve do?_

Steve, an unreasonable part of Bucky’s brain thought bitterly, would probably know exactly what to do. But of course, he wouldn’t, would be just as helpless (as he was when he was killed, supplied a nasty voice in Bucky’s brain that he tried to silence), would only be able to try to make sure Loki was comfortable and treat the symptoms. 

It wasn’t easy to get his lanky, surprisingly heavy body onto a couch, but he managed it eventually, though his legs hung awkwardly off the end a little. He fetched a blanket and dropped it over Loki since he felt cold, though even as he did it he felt a little absurd. He looked so still and pale and -  _dead_ that Bucky checked again, felt for pulse and breath and found both. 

That might not last. That could stop at any minute, Bucky knew. Whatever Loki had been hit with had acted fast and anything that powerful was risky. If it had hit  _him_ he probably would be dead now, but they hadn’t shot at him, they’d shot at Loki - which, Bucky wasn’t too vain to admit he was the bigger threat. 

But if HYDRA had had a weapon like this all along they would have used it. Who, then? SHIELD, maybe. Following Romanova. Maybe it  _had_ been a trap. 

Bucky sat down at the dining table and rested his head on the edge, keeping one eye on Loki in case he moved, or did anything other than lie there. Or stopped breathing. After a moment, he went back over and turned him on his side, just in case he vomited. It felt like moving deadweight, and Bucky tried not to think about that too long. 

If Loki died, where would he go? Even if he’d had somewhere he could think of that would take him in…

He’d sworn to himself, at some point, without saying the words or even making a conscious decision, that he was at least going to make it his business to keep Loki safe. Someone had to, and he thought maybe Steve would want that. 

He didn’t want to fail in this, too. 

Bucky dug out a can of soup and went through the motions of heating it up. He sat down where he could watch the couch and tried to see Loki’s chest moving as he breathed. 

Still alive so far, both of them. Somehow, they’d both make it through this.

God, Bucky was trying to believe that.


	3. Odin - This Is My Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be better to keep his distance, Odin thinks. (Set during "This Is My Kingdom Come".)

“You should go talk to him.”

Odin looked up from the list of accounts he had been pretending to study. His wife was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression difficult to read. “I cannot be seen favoring,” he started to say, but Frigga scoffed loudly enough to interrupt him.

“Do not pretend you could not be unseen if you wished,” she said, her eyes sparking a little. “You  _could_ go. And you should.”

Odin looked back down at the accounts. “No,” he said, finally. Frigga’s mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“Why not,” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door, a little too softly. Most of Asgard, Odin thought, thought his was the temper to beware. He knew better. 

“Loki is an exile,” he said carefully. “I have decreed it so, to save his  _life._ Not an hour past, I declared for all to see that he has no name and no place here. To approach him now would only salt the wound.”

Frigga narrowed her eyes. “You did not disown him.”

“No,” Odin said after a moment. “I did not. Though perhaps I should have.”

“I told him as much,” Frigga said. “He does not believe-”

“Good,” Odin said flatly. “That is for the best.”

He saw Frigga’s eyes flash. “It is  _for the best_ that your son believes you hate him? That you would have let him die?” 

Odin stood, meeting his wife’s eyes. “Do you know that I would not have?” 

For a moment, Frigga’s eyes widened, and he caught a glimpse of horror, of something that drew perilously near to hatred, before both vanished and she shook her head. “Do not play that part with me, my husband.”

Odin let his shoulders fall. “You doubted,” he said, not quite an accusation. Frigga met his eyes. 

“I understand why. You needed the rest to believe, and what better way…but. If it had failed. If the vote had gone the other way…?”

Odin looked toward the window. He had thought about that, sitting awake late at night, trying to plan. What would he do, if his gambit failed? Could he have sat still and watched his youngest son die and done nothing? He remained silent.

“If you do not go to him now,” Frigga said, her voice softer, “I doubt there will be another chance. You have a moment, my husband. An opening. Loki is…afraid, hurting. He would welcome…comfort.”

“Not from me,” Odin said with certainty. “Loki wants nothing from me.”

“If you believe that you are a fool.” Frigga spoke bluntly, without an ounce of shame, and Odin felt his lips twitch in spite of himself. “He is angry, yes. As you have been angry at him. But anger is not the same as hatred, and very far indeed from indifference.” 

Odin said nothing. 

“And what of Thor, your heir?” Frigga demanded. “Do you think this will not affect him? He is already angry with you. If you do not reach out to his brother, he may not forgive you this. Does  _that_ not concern you?”

Odin felt a pang. “Thor will have to learn, sooner or later, that ruling does not mean acting from one’s feelings. His anger will pass.”

“You assume that too easily.” Frigga said lowly. “Just as you assumed that Loki’s insecurity would fade, and his hurts vanish.”

That stung, and for a moment Odin was back on the Bifrost, watching Loki spout madness, his eyes pleading, and Odin  _did not understand_ how it had come to this. And when he spoke- 

Always, with Loki, it seemed he chose the wrong words. 

“It is better this way,” he said again, a feeble shield against his doubts. Against a desire to go, as Frigga commanded, warring with the fear that he might find a locked door - or worse, that his interference would ruin everything. He did not know how, but he had not expected a simple  _no, Loki_ to push his son into the abyss, either. 

“You know that is not true.” Frigga’s voice was softer, and her footsteps were quiet when she crossed the room to lay a hand lightly on his shoulder. “My husband. Odin. He is your son. If you reach out…he will reach back.”

_Or he will let go. Or he will spit in my face and I will again have to face the creature madness made of my gentle, curious son._

He shook his head. “Let him hate me,” he said, keeping his voice cold. “Perhaps he will find some solace in it.”

Frigga’s hand pulled away. “Coward,” she said, her voice harsh and accusing. She turned and swept out. Odin closed his eyes for a moment. For Asgard. Everything he did was for the good of Asgard. 

Loki would understand that. 


	4. Loki - This Is My Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki vs. the guards in "This Is My Kingdom Come".

They left him alone to stew for some time. 

Loki had known what he was returning to, but it still ate at him - the close space, the humming walls, the light that seemed to bore into him. (The  _light,_ bright and sharp and too much like - other places.) He felt twitchy and uneasy, and the power constricting his magic felt like pressure on his lungs.

How had he survived this for months without going mad? He wondered, and a dark corner of his mind thought  _because you did go mad. You are mad even now. Is not coming back here of your own will proof enough of that?_

But he had his reasons. He had a  _purpose._

He tried to settle, to focus on breathing, but the low humming of the barrier made it hard to concentrate, and questions kept breaking into his thoughts. 

Loki almost relaxed when he heard footsteps approaching.  _Ah,_ he thought.  _There you are. I have been expecting you._  He did not stand from where he was sitting, though, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees, eyes closed. If he could not be relaxed, at least he could appear it. 

He opened his eyes when the footsteps stopped, though. Five of them, he noted. None in the uniform of the Einherjar - which was a bit of a relief, though a part of him noted that the Einherjar at the gate would have had to let them through. He smiled at them, mildly, despite the admonishment he could hear at the back of his mind (in Steve’s voice).  _Do not antagonize them. This does not have to be worse than it needs to be._

“Distinguished gentlemen,” Loki murmured, with very light irony. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

One of them made a noise of disgust. “Traitor,” he said. “Lying snake.” Loki made his lips quirk, his body starting to hum with nervous anticipation. 

“How imaginative,” he said. “I’ve certainly never heard that before.” 

“My imagination would be wasted on you,” the speaker said, but one of the others shook his head sharply.

“Don’t talk to him,” he warned lowly. “It is dangerous.” A third simply spat on the ground. Loki raised his hands, letting his smile widen.

“I? Dangerous? What would such  _brave_  and _noble_  men have to fear from me?”  _Stop it,_ Steve’s voice warned him.  _Stop provoking them, do you_ want  _them to kill you_ and maybe that was it. But he did not think he would have any luck; these were too professional.

One of them, the leader, touched his hand to the barrier. It gave way for him and he stepped inside, followed by three of the others. The last remained outside, keeping watch. Loki made himself hold still, even though he could feel the room shrinking, the walls closing in on him. His breathing quickened, but he made himself raise his eyebrows as though unaffected. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

One of them circled around to his side. “On your feet,  _Laufeyson_ ,” he said. Loki stayed where he was. A small defiance. Useless, but everything was useless now. They wanted him to fight back, and he  _could,_ could probably even incapacitate one or two of them before they beat him down, but that would be giving them what they wanted and  _he would not_ be their weapon. His fingers curled into fists, his heart pounding. 

“I would rather not,” he said mildly, keeping his eyes on the one who seemed to be leading them. Loki was almost relieved not to recognize him. He thought that might have broken his determination, if he had. “I do not tend to take orders from menial thugs, I am afraid.” 

“Get him up,” the leader said harshly, and one of them grabbed Loki’s tunic and hauled him to his feet. Loki let them, keeping his limbs loose though his hands itched to move, to lash out and snap his wrist for daring to touch him so. 

_(Remember that you are nothing. You are already a dead man, what does it matter if they humiliate you a little on the way to the gallows?)_

He let his lips curve in a smirk. “Oh, I am terrified. Are you going to make me  _kneel,_ my  _lord?_ Going to have me kiss your boots?” He cocked his head. “I imagine you are more used to doing both than I, considering all the time I’m sure you’ve spent licking Njord’s…shoes.” 

He knew he’d won and felt a brief (very brief) flash of victorious glee before the punch took him in the solar plexus. He would have doubled over but the guard that had dragged him up held him upright as he gasped for air that he couldn’t draw in. The second blow hit his cheekbone hard enough to snap his head back, pain blazing through his face (but not his nose, so they weren’t aiming for permanent damage, just enough to hurt, to mark). His magic rose up and the wards clamped down, vicious enough to make him gasp. 

(They’d strengthened them, since his last…stay. So the Aesir did learn, after all, Loki thought, a little dizzily. He swallowed down the nausea.)

The one who’d hit him grabbed Loki’s face and turned his head. “It’ll mark,” said another. Loki made himself grin. 

“Still more handsome than you lot, I’m afraid,” he said. His voice sounded lighter than he would have believed possible. The one who’d pulled him up, standing behind him, grabbed a handful of Loki’s hair and yanked his head back until Loki’s neck strained. This time the punch was lower, stomach instead of solar plexus, and Loki let out a bark of pain before he could hold it back. “Good,” he managed to gasp. “That’s better,” and he heard a growl. The punch that hit his jaw made his vision go white and then red, bone not quite cracking.

“Filth,” one of them said. Maybe the one holding his hair, because he was still pulling, bending Loki’s spine in a painful arc. Blood was filling his mouth where his teeth had cut his cheek. Loki turned his head and spat it in one of the guard’s faces.

“Takes one,” he said, grinning wildly, his heart pounding hard in his ears. A booted foot struck the back of his knees and he dropped hard. Someone slapped him hard enough his ears rang, first one side of his face and then the other. Loki’s chest heaved but he kept grinning even knowing it had to look more like a snarl. 

It broke with the next strike, a boot in his stomach. Bile surged up his throat and he heard himself gurgle, his hair released just soon enough that he didn’t choke on his vomit but instead spewed on the floor. They kicked his hands out from under it, one of them shoving his face into the puddle. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, the buzzing of rage too loud in his ears, but he could not -  _could not-_

It was too late, anyway. Their bloodlust was loosed and restraint was gone, blows raining on his back and sides, hauling him up to spit in his face, shoving him back down, and Loki stopped trying to do anything but curl up and endure. He could have cried out, and maybe someone would have come, but there was too much at stake, too much to risk,  _you are worthless anyway breathe in the pain breathe it breathe-_

It ended very suddenly, and he was curled up in the cell panting, bruised and aching from head to toe. He could hear the guards breathing as well, harsh and loud. Loki’s mouth tasted like mingled copper and vomit, the taste making his stomach roil.

“Good enough?” One of the guards said. His voice was harsh. Thick as though with lust, and Loki wanted to laugh, hysterical,  wanted to ask  _was it good for you_ but it was probably fortunate he could not find the air to breathe. Some of his ribs felt cracked. 

“Good enough,” said another. Maybe the one who had been leading. It was hard to tell. Loki realized he could feel tears on his face and felt a pang of shame that was, frankly, absurd. There was vomit in his hair and he was huddled in a ball in Asgard’s dungeons. “We need to go.”

 _It won’t work,_ Loki wanted to mock them.  _No one is going to know about this, and so no one will lash out and give your master power. This is how I win, do you hear me?_

He said nothing. Stayed where he was, breathing harshly but quietly, until they left. 

Loki uncurled slowly, muscles screaming at him. He looked at his clothes, lifted fingers to touch his face, gingerly. Not so bad. They’d kept the worst of it…unseen, though anyone who saw him move would know at once that he was not well. He probed around his mouth with his tongue and spat into his hand, carefully: no teeth. He stank, but a little water would see that mended. 

Loki made his way to the bed, slowly, and slumped onto it, leaning his head back against the wall, body throbbing. But he let himself smile. 

 _You are desperate, Njord, if this is what you are reduced to,_ he thought.  _Good. You did not plan on this. You did not plan on me._

He started to shake. Loki wasn’t sure if it was with laughter or with tears. 


	5. Sif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif was not expecting a summons from Loki. She was expecting the troll even less. (Set after "This Is My Kingdom Come".)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon on Tumblr pointed out that with Loki now an exile from Asgard, entirely cut off, enemies of Odin's might see an opportunity. I took the idea and made it kind of more about Sif and Loki's relationship (which I'd really like to write more about, especially in this verse) than anything else. Oh well.

The last thing - the  _absolute_ last thing - that Sif expected was to receive a message from Loki. Not by bird, or even by an illusion, but directly into her mind as he had not in - decades, at the least. It was short but clear, his thoughts barely brushing hers. _Come at once,_ he said.  _Stark’s building. Alone would be best. I will explain later._

It took her so by surprise that she almost lost the practice bout in which she was engaged. Almost. She  _did_ excuse herself early, unnerved in spite of herself. She would not have expected Loki to be able to reach her - but more surprising was that he would try. Things between them were still…the best word she could think of was _unfortunate,_ and Loki must know it was a risk, that contacting  _anyone_ on Asgard stepped perilously close to the terms of his banishment. That he would do so anyway…Loki was not reckless. Or rather, this was not his kind of recklessness.

It occurred to her that it might be a trap, but she dismissed the thought at once. She would have expected it, perhaps, of the Loki she had believed he was, but after his conduct through the trial…she did not think that was his purpose. 

So Sif found an excuse and journeyed out to the end of the Bifrost. “I wish to go to Midgard,” she said stiffly. “To the Tower of Stark.”

Her brother examined her, gaze critical and entirely too perceptive. “Should I ask your business there, Lady Sif?” He asked. Sif gave him a level look and said nothing. She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “You know the way back, when you require it,” he said, and then lifted the sword in two hands-

The Bifrost swept her down just outside the familiar pair of glass doors, but before she could stride up and knock Loki appeared at her elbow. He looked slightly disheveled, and less slightly harried, and Sif felt a faint prickle of worry for all he looked unharmed. She did not ask, though, having no wish to receive the sharp edge of Loki’s tongue. “Why did you call me here?” She asked.

Loki opened his mouth, wrinkled his nose, and stopped. “It will be easier to show you,” he said, after a moment, and before she could stop him he took her elbow and pulled her with him in that disconcerting, stomach-lurching movement. She was standing in unfamiliar quarters - Loki’s, she supposed with a jolt, though there was very little to mark them as such. On the floor, bound and gagged, was-

Sif felt herself tense. “That is a troll,” she said. Loki hummed, not in disagreement. He prodded the creature with his foot, and it thrashed, making muffled growling noises. Loki’s nose wrinkled again.

“Indeed,” he said. “Keenly observed, Lady Sif.”

Sif stiffened at once, head to toe, and  _just_ managed to keep herself from snapping in answer to the acid in his voice. “I did not come here to be mocked,” she said tightly. Loki’s expression twitched and for a moment she braced herself for a verbal duel, but then he glanced aside. 

“No, I suppose not,” he said. “Forgive me. I have had a peculiar afternoon.” Sif registered faint surprise, observing to herself that perhaps the both of them had grown up, some. 

“Does your peculiar afternoon have something to do with the troll on your floor?” She asked, a little dry herself. Loki’s mouth twitched toward a smile but his eyebrows drew together. 

“Rather, yes.”

“And you want me to…?”

“Remove him to Asgard,” Loki said. “If I may… _advise_ questioing him about his intentions-”

Sif interrupted. “You could save us a great deal of time if you told me what this was about.” 

Loki’s expression did something odd. “Could I? My word is not precisely  _trustworthy.”_ Sif felt a stab of impatience and crossed her arms, though she kept one eye on the prisoner.

“What is this about,” she said, a little less mildly. For a moment the look Loki cast her was tense, almost hunted, but then he glanced away and paced across the room. Sif took the opportunity to scan the suite more carefully; she could see some drawings on the walls, and there was a stack of books on one of the tables, but it did not look as though Loki had made much impression here. She found that strangely…Sif was not certain how that made her feel. 

“I was approached,” Loki said eventually, “with an…offer. That Ulik-” Sif jerked in recognition, but Loki did not pause- “would reward me  _substantially_ for information on Asgard’s defenses and her secrets.” She could not see Loki’s face, but he paused for a moment. Leaving her a space, Sif thought suddenly, to react, though she was not certain what reaction he expected and the feeling that he expected  _something_ made her wary. 

“You said no,” she said, glancing toward the prisoner. “Obviously.” 

“Is it obvious?” Loki’s voice sounded distant, as though he were not exactly talking to her, but a moment later he turned. “In point of fact I did not. I listened, I drew out what I could gather of Ulik’s goals, and  _then_ I said no.“ He glanced at the prisoner, who growled again, eyes glaring at Loki. “I imagine you can gather what followed.” 

“And then you called me.” Sif hesitated, groping after a thought. “Why me, and not simply Heimdall? Or Thor?” 

Again that odd grimace, passing quickly over Loki’s face. “I do not wish Thor to know of this.” 

“Why not?” Sif demanded, feeling herself straighten. “What is it you think Thor will do?”

“It is not what I think he will  _do,”_ Loki began, but then cut off, nostrils flaring, with a shake of his head. “It does not matter.”

 _It does,_ Sif wanted to insist, but she had a feeling arguing this would get her nowhere. “You did not answer my first question. Why me?” 

A series of complicated expressions briefly flashed on Loki’s features, too quickly for her to identify with any certainty. “You assumed that I would refuse,” he said after a moment. It took a moment for Sif to understand, and then she felt a peculiar pang in her stomach. 

“You mean I assumed that you would not betray Asgard,” Sif said. “You think others would think otherwise?” 

Loki arched his eyebrows. “I cannot even claim it would be a wholly unfair suspicion. I was not certain that it was not one that would occur to  _you,_ but you at least would give a fair hearing, and  _your_  honor is unimpeachable if it comes to any…difficulty.” There was something faintly, briefly bitter in his voice. “After all, it is clear that _some_ believe it likely.” He glanced at the troll on the floor. Sif frowned.

“A troll would betray his own mother if there was gold in it,” she said bluntly. “I would not make much of  _their_ expectations.” Loki said nothing, and Sif tensed. “This is not the first time,” she said, with sudden certainty. 

Loki shrugged one shoulder. “Apparently word of my exile has spread.” It was impossible to read his voice, but the way he did not look at her spoke enough. “And on its heels, of course - the thought that  _faithless traitor_ Loki might well be willing to hear such offers.” His lips twisted. “I am not  _precisely_ known for my loyalty.”

Sif hesitated, but only for a moment. “You have never betrayed Asgard,” she said. Loki cast her a hooded look. 

“Do you know that?” He said, voice odd. “Do you know that this is not the first gambit in an elaborate trap that ends with Asgard’s fall?” 

“I know it,” Sif said, ignoring the flicker of doubt. She thought she might have risen to it, before; she flattered herself that she knew better now. Loki glanced away, apparently made uncomfortable. 

“You should take that,” he said with a gesture at the troll, “and go. You would not wish to be tainted by too much close proximity.” Dry, self-deprecating, but she thought there was sincerity there for all that. Sif made herself scoff. 

“Have I ever been concerned about what others believed of me? My honor is known and I would defend it against any foolish slander.” Loki’s eyes flickered to her, briefly, and then pulled away, his expression too smooth. She hesitated. Things between them…had never been simple. And it had been a long time since they had been easy. 

She took a step forward and reached out to clasp Loki’s shoulder, like a comrade. “Even in exile it is clear you have more loyalty than many in Asgard’s court,” she said, firm and clear. Loki’s mouth twitched at one corner, but she thought she caught a glimpse in his eyes of gratitude before he smiled, just a little too glib. 

“Many in Asgard’s court have even less loyalty than trolls. You damn with faint praise.” But he touched her shoulder, briefly. Sif shook her head. 

“Ah, Loki,” she said, but she did not mask the fondness in it. She nodded toward the troll. “I will take him back to Asgard and inform the All-Father that Ulik may be planning something.” She paused. “Do you wish me to tell him the source of this information?”

Loki’s expression shuttered and his eyes turned away. “No,” he said, after a moment. “Better not. I would not give him reason to feel he made a dangerous mistake turning me loose.”

A younger Sif would have said that she was sure he would not think so. Might even have responded hotly, interpreting the tone of Loki’s voice as disdain. Now she left it alone, and simply nodded. “Is that what you fear Thor will think?” She said, after a moment. Loki said nothing and she thought she might not get an answer at all. 

“In part,” he said, at length. “For the rest…he does not need to see me as vulnerable.”

Sif nodded, but slowly. “If you are certain.”

“I am.” Loki said quickly, almost cold. Sif let it go.

“Be well,” she said, after a moment. 

“And you, Lady Sif,” Loki said. He bowed, formally, from the waist. Sif felt the urge to shake her head, or to shake him, and of course did neither. 

 _Next time you might even summon me for something other than errand running,_ she thought about saying, but it seemed overbold. She was not certain yet. “Be careful,” she did add, pulling the troll to his feet.

“Aren’t I always?” Loki said lightly, and with a flick of his wrist she was outside, surly burden in tow. She shook her head. Always so concerned with who had the last word. 

“Heimdall,” she called, tilting her head back and keeping a tight grip on her prisoner. “Open the Bifrost.”


	6. Thor - This Is My Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor doesn't like anything about this situation whatsoever. (Set during "This Is My Kingdom Come", while Steve is meeting Frigga.)

Thor followed Odin out of the throne room in silence, containing his emotions beneath a mask he thought Loki would have been proud of - though it was hard, seething anger struggling to overcome him. He waited until they entered a small sitting room and Odin turned to face him.

“Did you send one of the Einherjar to seize Loki,” he demanded. His father’s face was impassive. 

“The Einherjar take commands only from me,” he said, and Thor felt a snap of anger. 

“He _attacked_ him,” Thor said loudly. “ _Stabbed_ him. Was that your command as well?” He could not stop thinking of Loki being led away in chains. The look on his face as Forseti clasped the muzzle over his mouth. 

The heavy weight of fear in Thor’s stomach. 

“We are not here to speak of Loki,” Odin said. _Loki,_ not _your brother,_ Thor noted, and the fear deepened. He did not want to believe…but would he? “I wish to speak of you. And your responsibilities, which you have neglected.” 

Thor’s nostrils flared. “Loki is my responsibility,” he said bluntly and without hesitation. “I am here to save him.”

“No,” Odin said. “You are not.” Thor jerked, and his father met his eyes, gaze level. “You are here to be Asgard’s prince. And when this is over-”

“When this is over,” Thor interrupted, raising his voice. “And how do you mean this to be over, father? Do you intend to sacrifice Loki on the altar of your power?” 

He saw his father’s shoulders stiffen. “If you had been here perhaps the situation would not be so dire as to necessitate it,” he said, voice harsh, and Thor nearly stumbled back. 

“Is that a _yes?”_ He had not believed Loki when he had said - had not wanted to believe Loki’s insinuations. But here he stood and it seemed the All-Father was saying… “You will watch Loki, you will watch _your son_ die and not raise a hand-”

“This is not about him!” Odin did not quite yell, but his voice was raised. “This is about Asgard, and the need for our family to stay strong!”

“Loki _is_ our family!” Thor took a sharp step toward Odin, feeling his temper rise. “Have you forgotten that? You act as though - as though you can simply cast him aside because it is politically expedient to do so!”

“Thor,” Odin said, voice a rumble, “do not speak so to me. You know nothing of the situation here. If you had been _attending to your duties as prince,_ rather than - playing amongst the mortals-”

“If you let Loki perish I will never come back,” Thor said lowly, anger and fear tangled together and boiling up in him. He nearly did not recognize his own voice. “I will turn my back on you and Asgard both.”

“No,” Odin said, taking a step toward Thor. “You will not. You are not a _child,_ Thor. You must understand that sometimes hard choices must be made.” When he was younger, the tone of his voice might have cowed Thor. Now, it only made him angrier. 

“Is it a hard choice?” Thor accused, raising his chin and not retreating an inch. “ _Is_ it?”

Fury lit Odin’s eyes, briefly, and for a moment Thor expected him to roar, to raise his voice and truly shout, and he planted his feet and prepared to answer with fury of his own, but then Odin’s face smoothed and he turned his back. “I will not argue with you, boy. This is not a discussion. I am telling you what I expect, and I am still your king.” Thor stiffened, and Odin went on. “Should you attempt to disobey me I will not scruple from sealing you in your rooms until the trial is completed. Do you understand me?” 

Rage rose up Thor’s throat, choking him momentarily, beating a second heartbeat in his stomach. He inhaled, filling his lungs to chase the encroaching haze from his vision. “I understand,” he said flatly. 

“Good. You are dismissed.” There was no room for further argument in Odin’s voice. Thor turned and slammed out of the room. His fingers itched and he could feel the storm humming in his blood. He wished there was an enemy he could fight. 

He paused, several paces away from the sitting room, and pressed one fist against the cool stone of a wall, followed by his forehead. Loki’s face flashed into his mind, the look in his eyes as he spoke the binding words. _I, Loki Laufeyson, agree to submit to the will of the All-Father._ It was the first time Thor could remember him taking - that name, and it had made his stomach churn to hear it, even before he registered what Loki was doing. Even before he realized what the calm determination in Loki’s eyes at that moment reminded him of. 

(That same terrible certainty, the moment before his fingers loosened and he fell.)

Thor was no fool. He knew why Loki was doing this. He knew why his father was. But they were both of them _wrong_ and if he could forgive Loki his despair he could not forgive his father his surrender, could not-

He pulled himself away from the wall before he smashed his fist into it with the impotent rage that felt as though it would squeeze all the air from his lungs. 

He would save Loki, Thor thought, with a combination of desperation and determination. This time, _this time_ he would save his brother. 

No matter the consequences.


	7. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things Bruce didn't want to do today: get stuck in a room with Loki. Things Bruce didn't want to do _ever_ , really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are people who've been asking about Bruce and Loki for a while, and finally someone specifically asked for a Bruce & Loki interaction in the Remember This Cold verse. And I'd had something like this scenario in my head for a while, so I went ahead and wrote it. In retrospect I am mildly concerned that it is a little bit contrived but, _well._ I am not going to feel (that) bad about it.
> 
> This chapter set somewhere shortly after "only when you hit the ground" and in the middle of Loki's recovery.

“You did what?” Bruce asked. Not angry. _Not_ angry. Just a little…surprised. 

“I was just testing out a new system,” Tony said. He sounded sheepish, at least. “Security thing, you know, in case the Tower gets attacked…again. The idea is to isolate anything that gets in, be able to trap it in a specific area…”

“And you just felt like trying it out now,” Bruce said. Patiently. That was the key word here, _patience._ That and _calm._ “And now you can’t turn it off.”

“I was testing to see if it worked!” Tony said. “ _Obviously_ I thought I’d made sure no one was in the area before closing the doors…”

Bruce inhaled, counted to five, and exhaled. “How long,” he asked. Tony said nothing. “How long,” he repeated, a little louder. 

“Uh. Can’t say for sure. Could be five minutes…could also be a couple hours before I can backtrack and figure out what went wrong enough to disengage the blast doors.” 

This time Bruce counted to seven, but it was more about panic now than anger, the idea of being stuck in small quarters, locked in, _caged._ The Other Guy didn’t like that one. (Neither did Bruce, if he was honest.) 

“Bruce?” Tony said. He sounded worried.

Bruce made himself smile. “Good thing I’ve got a kitchen,” he said. 

Tony’s relief was obvious in his voice. “I’ll buy you a case of wine. No, wait, tea. Does tea come in cases? Really nice tea. What kind of tea do you like, buddy?” 

“Just get the doors down,” Bruce said, though he could feel the corners of his mouth twitching a little. He hung up the phone and looked at the solid gray metal that had come down in front of the doorway, but staring at it made him…twitchy. He blew out a breath. “Right. Just a couple hours.” He rolled his shoulders back and down and headed back toward the kitchen he’d just exited ten minutes ago. It’d be fine. He could handle a few hours on his own. 

 _I take it back,_ Bruce thought wryly as he reached the door to the kitchen and stopped dead, because standing inside muttering at a jar of peanut butter was one Loki, and if there was one person Bruce would really rather avoid altogether at all times and especially when he was trapped in a relatively small space, it was Loki. 

Nothing against the guy, mostly. Even if he had been responsible for the break in Bruce’s green streak. It was hard not to feel a little sympathy for someone who was…that much of a wreck. Particularly when you’d seen them wrenched apart in ways no living being should _ever_ have to endure. Particularly when Loki was obviously skittish around him, and his skittishness made Bruce tense and his being tense made the Other Guy upset and the Other Guy upset…

Yeah.

But on the other hand - this wasn’t the floor Loki had claimed as his, and he still looked like death warmed over (barely two weeks out from Doom’s hellhole, Bruce was honestly astounded he was even standing) and if Loki hadn’t realized he’d been locked in yet…

The decision was made for him by the fact that Loki apparently realized he was being watched, whirled around with a butter knife in hand in a way that might’ve been comical if not for the wild, panicky look in his eyes, and froze. _Completely_ froze, like a deer facing down a car. Bruce: car. Or, more likely, Hulk: car. Did Loki even draw a distinction? _A beast makes play he’s still a man._ Loki’s words. Bruce tried not to let them sting. 

He held up his hands, quickly. “Hey,” he said. “Wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I didn’t know you were here.”

Loki swallowed visibly. “I see,” he said after a moment. “Well. I did not mean to intrude. I shall be on my way.”

“Wait,” Bruce said, even as Loki turned - picking up the peanut butter, Bruce noted, though it looked clumsy. (He remembered, without wanting to, the jagged holes through Loki’s wrists, and felt the Other Guy grumble at the back of his mind. _It’s fine,_ he tried to think in that general direction.) Loki paused, though he didn’t look back. “There’s…Tony was testing some new security system. This area’s been quarantined.”

Loki had already been very still. Now he went even stiller. “Quarantined?”

Bruce fidgeted. “Yeah, sealed off from the rest of the building-”

“I know what quarantined means,” Loki snapped, interrupting. He looked like he was going to start vibrating, and it was making Bruce feel decidedly unsteady. Maybe he should just back out and find a quiet place to meditate, but…leaving a Loki who looked on the verge of panic didn’t sit well with him. 

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to sound relaxed and casual. “Just a system error. He’ll probably have it fixed in a couple hours.” Although - wait. “Shouldn’t this not even be a problem for you? You can just,” Bruce made a gesture he hoped approximated _magic_. Loki flinched like Bruce had poked him in his probably still healing ribs.

“Not at the moment, no.” Loki’s voice was tight, audibly strained. He looked like he was holding off a full blown panic attack by his fingernails: Bruce recognized the signs. He remembered what Thor had said, about Loki’s magic not healing him like it should, and tried to imagine what that would be like, having your best line of defense stripped away on top of everything else. He was briefly, privately impressed that Loki was keeping it together at all.

“Oh,” he said, with a slight wince. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

The look Loki gave him was suspicious, like he thought Bruce might have an ulterior motive for apologizing, but he just jerked his head in a nod, right hand flexing open and closed, open and closed.

Bruce leaned against a counter. What did you say in this kind of situation? “What are you doing down here?” He asked, and then wanted to wince as Loki stiffened. “It’s not a problem, I’m not going to tell on you. Just wondering. If there’s something you needed that you don’t have…”

Loki’s nostrils flared. “I was out of peanut butter,” he said finally, sounding almost defensive. 

“Huh,” Bruce said. “Fair enough.” Loki stared at him like he was speaking another language and Bruce briefly felt the urge to say _I smashed you into a floor_ once, _why do you keep looking at me like I’m going to hit you again, it just makes me angry and neither of us is going to like it when I’m angry._ Instead, he went over to the island and pulled out a stool. “How’re you doing?” He asked casually, like they did this all the time.

It was impressive that Loki could stiffen further, but he did. “Fine,” he snapped. Bruce raised his eyebrows. 

“I’m not trying to pry,” he said. “Somehow I ended up being your physician, apparently. I guess you’re healing all right?” 

Loki’s eyes skittered around the room like he was expecting something to pop out of the corners. Doom, maybe. “Obviously,” he said, voice tight. Calming breaths, Bruce thought, even as his body wanted to respond to the almost palpable tension in the room. 

“Glad to hear it,” he said. Casual, calm. Maybe some of it could rub off. Loki barked a laugh.

“I’m sure,” he said, biting, and Bruce felt a little spark start in his chest, a flash of temper, before he pushed it down. Controlled it. He stayed quiet to the count of ten, keeping his eyes on Loki, who shifted, expression turning nervous. 

“I don’t know what you think I think,” Bruce said, “but I’m not exactly a fan of torture, even of my enemies. And you’re not really that anymore, are you?”

Loki gave him that look again, like he’d started talking in gibberish. Bruce looked back at him, as placidly as he could manage. _Chew on that,_ he thought. 

Loki shifted his weight slightly, looking a little less like he was about to run. Bruce felt himself relax a little too. “I understand that I owe you thanks,” he said at length, tone still wary like he suspected a trap. Bruce remembered that feeling: expecting every little kindness to hide a nasty surprise, hyper-aware of every little reaction because you never knew when the switch would flip and _father_ became _monster._ He wondered when Loki had picked that one up, but thinking too much about it just made him itch. There were too many things about Loki like that, that cut too close to things Bruce didn’t like thinking about.

“No problem,” Bruce said, focusing on sounding relaxed. He wondered if Loki remembered breaking his wrist. _Seriously,_ are _you all right,_ he wanted to ask, but he didn’t think he’d get an answer. Loki didn’t like him and being around Loki made Bruce think, for some reason, about the time he’d tried to eat a bullet. There were other rooms in the quarantine. He could go.

He stayed sitting where he was. Loki looked like he was fighting a battle between leaving and looking like he was running away and staying. He stayed. Bruce had to give him kudos for that. 

Loki might be a wreck and a half but he wasn’t a coward.

Bruce gestured at the peanut butter. “Crunchy or creamy?” Inane, sure, but also safe. Loki looked at the jar and then at Bruce as though he thought Bruce might be mildly insane.

“Creamy,” he said, at length. Cautious, like he thought it might be the wrong answer. “Why?”

“It’s kind of a…thing. Stupid but harmless topics of conversation?” Bruce said, and tried for a smile. Loki stared at him again, but after a moment his lips twisted toward a smile and he let out a huff of something that might have been a laugh.

“I see. Like discussing the weather.” His eyebrows quirked. “Shall we do that too?”

“Only if you want to,” Bruce said generously. It occured to him that that crooked little half smile was more real than anything else he’d seen on Loki. 

“Not a terribly stimulating topic,” Loki said, and Bruce thought _you know what would be, if I could ask about your magic_ but he didn’t think now was the time. Maybe never would be the time. He knew how he’d react to someone he thought of as an enemy asking a lot of questions about how the Hulk worked. Loki didn’t look on the verge of bolting anymore, and his eyes were actually focused. Bruce didn’t actually want to throw him back over the edge.

“Not really, no,” he agreed. This was weird. The conversational equivalent of coaxing a stray cat indoors. The Other Guy liked cats, the back of his mind informed him, which was interesting, because Bruce was more of a dog person. “Here’s another one - cats or dogs?”

“Because the two are diametrically opposed?” Loki said. Bruce shrugged.

“People sure act like they are.”

Loki made a sort of “hmm” noise. “I _have_ a cat,” he said. “So I suppose…perhaps them.”

“You do?” Bruce said, surprised. When had that happened.

“Steve purchased him for me,” Loki said, voice indifferent though Bruce caught a very slight touch of color in his cheeks. “Apparently he thought I might become lonely.”

That was…cute. “Steve’s thoughtful like that,” Bruce said. Loki looked away. 

“He is.” 

Tony had expressed all kinds of doubts to Bruce about this Loki-and-Steve thing, about Loki using Steve, having some long term plan, something. Bruce was pretty sure if something went wrong it wasn’t going to be because Loki didn’t care about Steve. Still, it was almost embarrassing the way Loki said that, with some mingled ruefulness and awe. It vanished quickly, though, tucked away behind a mask as he cocked his head. “And what of you, Dr. Banner? Cats or dogs?”

“I tend to be more of a dog person,” he said. “But apparently the Other Guy likes cats.” It was a risk, mentioning him, and he saw Loki twitch.

“Your…” Bruce heard _beast_ on the tip of Loki’s tongue, but he said, “other half has good taste.”

“Sometimes,” Bruce said. He wondered if Loki was being tactful out of concern for his feelings or fear of the reaction. Loki looked thoughtful.

“Is…he part of you,” he asked suddenly. “Or separate?”

Speaking of questions about how the Hulk worked, Bruce thought, feeling himself tense. But there was something…something. And if he didn’t want Loki to be afraid of him… “I’m not sure,” he said, carefully. “It’s like…hm. We’re the same, sort of. But different facets. He’s always there, in me, but it’s not like someone else taking over my body, it’s more…” Bruce shook his head. “I’m not actually sure. There’s a lot I still don’t know. I’ve spent more time trying to…not be him than trying to figure out who he is.”

Loki’s expression looked odd, like there was something caught in his chest. “Do you ever want your other self gone?” he asked. Bruce examined Loki’s face, trying to figure out why he was asking. He had a feeling there was something he was missing. 

“Sure,” Bruce said. “All the time. But, I mean…” He blew out a breath, considering his words carefully. “I can’t pretend he’s never done anything for me. Or other people, that me, like this, I couldn’t do.” He paused, and hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “Self-loathing takes a lot of energy,” he said carefully. “I’m trying to…there are better things to use that energy for.”

Loki’s expression shuttered. “Wise words, I am sure.”

 _Well,_ Bruce thought ruefully. _There goes my chance._ He shrugged. “I don’t know about _wise._  Might just be words.” He tried to smile. Loki’s mouth didn’t even twitch. 

His phone started ringing and both Bruce and Loki jumped; Loki’s eyes went a little wild and for a second Bruce thought he might lash out. He held up his phone quickly. “Just a call,” he said, and answered it, trying to ignore the flash of near rage across Loki’s face before he controlled it again. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Good news!” Tony said on the other end. “I found the problem. The lights are going to go out for just a second here and then the doors will disengage and you’re free as a bird.”

Bruce pulled the phone away from his ear. “Did you hear that?” He asked Loki. “Another minute and we can both get out of here.”

“Mm,” Loki said. Bruce put the phone back to his ear.

“What was that? Who are you stuck with?” Tony sounded intrigued. “Should I leave you in there, maybe romance will blossom with - Clint? Is it Clint?” 

“It’s Loki,” Bruce said, after a moment’s hesitation. He glanced at Loki, and tried to smile.

“Oh, shit,” Tony said. “Are you okay?” Bruce felt a pang of annoyance: _the fact that you’re talking to_ me _would suggest yes._ Tony didn’t deserve that, but there was also no answer he could give that wouldn’t tell Loki exactly what Tony had asked - if he hadn’t already heard it. 

“Go ahead and cut the power whenever,” he said instead. “And then I can come to your lab and we can have a talk about fair warnings before testing.”

“That sounds like fun,” Tony said.

“Uh huh,” Bruce said, and hung up. Loki was leaning back against the counter with studied nonchalance. “Just a minute longer.”

Loki said nothing, studying Bruce with an unnervingly blank-yet-intense stare. The lights went out and Bruce tried not to tense up, but it was only for a split second before they came back on. Bruce stood up, halfway to mouthing a polite goodbye, but Loki was already gone.


	8. Bruce - only when you hit the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's condition is so very out of his range of experience. Bruce does what he can anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh. Forget how exactly this happened? I think someone mentioned wanting to see more outsider POV things, or maybe wanting to see more outsider POV of when I'm beating Loki half to hell and back (because usually I'm doing that while writing from his point of view) and then people started sending me prompts, and, well. I'm a sucker for these things. And for revisiting scenes from earlier. 
> 
> This one's from "only when you hit the ground" (as will probably be obvious) and thus features warnings for gore, aftermath of torture, description of injury, etc. Everyone's having a great time!

Bruce wasn’t entirely certain when the Hulk’s feelings on Loki had changed, but apparently they had, based on the way he could feel him grumbling somewhere in his hindbrain. Or maybe that was just Bruce, hard to say, and he knew he was thinking about this so he could avoid thinking too much about the reason Hulk was upset at all. And he did need to think about it, considering that he was supposed to be helping.

Only - Bruce didn’t know how the hell he _was_ supposed to help. He wasn’t even an MD let alone a surgeon let alone…whatever the hell you needed to be to treat someone whose ribcage had been cracked open for who knew how long, and even without knowing how things were _supposed_ to look Bruce could tell there were things _missing._ Probably somewhere in Doom’s lab-cum-torture chamber, and Bruce had to stop for a second to breathe so he didn’t lose control. It didn’t help that much, considering that everything smelled like blood.

He looked down at Loki, his head lolling limply to the side. He looked dead, but Bruce knew he wasn’t, since he could _see_ Loki’s goddamn heart _beating._ The bone was already starting to heal, but all wrong, and Bruce’s stomach clenched as he realized they were pretty much going to have to rebreak all of it to put it back right.

 _It. Go ahead,_ Doctor Banner, _say what you mean: you’re going to rebreak Loki’s ribs and put them back in place and - what, pray to god he doesn’t get an infection, or just bleed dry, or go into shock and die, maybe Doom was doing something special to keep him alive, won’t know now since Thor killed him. And how about those missing parts, huh, whatever internal organs Doom just straight up carved out, don’t suppose you can get a transplant for those. Are they just going to grow back or-_

“Is he-?” Steve’s voice only wobbled a little bit. Bruce didn’t look at him, didn’t want to see the look on his face. Bruce hoped to god he never had to see anyone he loved like…this. Well. Unless he hooked up with an alien, he wouldn’t, because a human wouldn’t be alive right now. And this was the second time Doom had gotten his hands on Loki. _In,_ really, haha, what a _good joke,_ Bruce _._

“Still alive,” he said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Still - he’s lost a lot of blood but it’s slowing down, though that might just be because there’s not a lot left to lose. Do you know if - Thor, is there some kind of magic he could do if he was conscious…”

“It should work without his effort,” Thor said. Bruce wanted to look at him even less. Mostly because looking at him made the Hulk want to smash things, but also because his hands were currently slippery with his little brother’s blood and even if it was because he was helping, he didn’t want to know if Thor was glaring at him. “It should have, by now…”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and almost ran his hand through his hair before he remembered not to. “Okay. So that’s not…” He trailed off. At least Loki was still hanging on, so far. _Just keep on doing that,_ he thought, half panicked. _Keep on surviving, you stubborn bastard._ “Thor,” he said tightly, “bring me that roll of bandages? Please.”

Thor moved off and Bruce took the time to ease skin back into place, even knowing it wouldn’t last for long. All he could do was rig something until they got back and he could hopefully manage something better. “Was he responsive when you found him?” Bruce asked Steve, who was staring at Loki like he could will him to get better if he tried hard enough.

“He was,” Steve said, after a moment. “Briefly, but not - not coherent.”

It was a good answer, as far as Loki’s continued survival went. Bad one because thinking about having to be awake, like that, almost certainly in agony-

 _Breathe deep,_ he thought. _No one you want to hurt is on this plane._

Incredibly enough, the Hullk subsided. Bruce thanked God silently, took the roll of bandages from Thor, and went to work on wrapping up what he could. At least he could do that.

* * *

Bruce recognized the groggy, wrung out feeling that was his body post-transformation, and his first thought, as usual, was _who did I kill, how many._ He turned his head to see where he was, trying to sort through the jumble of his thoughts, and blinked at Thor, who was sitting nearby. There was a bruise on the side of his face, and he looked like he was holding himself gingerly, but seemed otherwise unharmed.

He’d been trying to help Loki, Bruce remembered. Gotten him into the med bay, and - oh. He’d assumed Loki was out, or that he’d have more warning, but it’d been like a switch flipped and Loki went from dead still to fighting. He checked his wrist, just to make sure, but it was indeed back in one piece.

It was weird, though: abstractly of course he knew Loki was strong, but he made it easy to forget. At least until he broke several bones in your wrist with one hand.

“Bruce,” Thor said, seeming to snap out of some reverie and standing. “You wake.”

“Yep,” he said, voice a little croaky. “Don’t suppose you have some water. Or, um, a shirt.” The pants from Tony seemed to work, at least.

Thor stood. “I will be right back with both.” He seemed anxious, antsy. Bruce searched his memory, trying to remember what had happened after his wrist snapped. He thought he remembered seeing Loki standing, bloody and swaying, teeth bared, and he felt a sudden surge of panic. Loki could take a Hulk-beating, sure, he’d proven that already - but maybe not when he was that wrecked. It’d be easy for barely healed, taped together skin to tear and Bruce wasn’t sure even Asgardians could survive with their intestines on the floor. And that wasn’t even thinking of Steve.

“Wait, Thor,” he said urgently. “Did I - is anyone hurt?”

“No,” Thor said, his voice softening. “I removed you swiftly, and no one was harmed.”

Bruce dropped his head into his hands with a relieved exhale. That was…better than any green episode he’d had, probably. He hadn’t ended up in the middle of nowhere, no one was dead, and no one had any…serious new injuries. That was good.

Thor hesitated a moment longer, then left. Bruce kept his head in his hands, his thoughts going back to Loki. He wondered if they’d called someone else in. Probably not - it was a short list of people that knew Loki was here, and a short list of doctors with any experience treating superhumans, and there wasn’t really any overlap.

So Loki was…somewhere. Probably in roughly the same shape Bruce’d left him in, though he hoped for Loki’s sake he wasn’t conscious anymore. _When did this become your life, Banner,_ he thought ruefully.

When Thor came back with a glass of water, he took it and drank gratefully, downing the whole thing before he took the shirt as well and pulled it on. “Your brother,” he said carefully. Thor’s expression did something odd.

“I am sorry that he hurt you, and provoked the Hulk,” Thor said. “He was…” Thor trailed off, and Bruce blinked.

“You think I-? No, no, Thor, I get it. I’m not _upset_ at him. I’m relieved it was just my wrist, honestly.” He tried for a smile, but Thor just looked weary and drawn, and Bruce looked away. “I meant - how is he, does he still need…”

“Yes.” Thor swallowed, and for a moment looked like he would cry, but the moment passed. “Steve gave him something to keep him in sleep, but he is still…” Thor straightened, meeting Bruce’s eyes squarely. “If you do not wish to - I understand, but if you could give me another name or names…and if you were willing, I would be grateful. If you required anything I might offer-”

“Thor,” Bruce interrupted quietly, “I’m your _friend._ Right? You don’t need to - I’m not going to leave Loki to suffer. Give me a minute and I’ll go back down - up? And this time I won’t go putting my hands on his neck without at least a warning.” Thor stared at him, and Bruce felt a guilty twist. “What,” he said, a little awkward. “You think I’d just…? Trying not to let my feelings be hurt.”

Thor exhaled in a rush of breath. “My friend - thank you. I do not mean to imply that - only that I know you none of you have any reason to bear Loki any goodwill, and that is-”

“I actually don’t mind him that much,” Bruce interrupted. “I mean, in theory. Don’t think he likes me, and the way he twitches every time I look at him makes me nervous, but it’s not like…I don’t know. It’s been a couple years. He hasn’t flipped on us, hasn’t attacked anyone who…didn’t kinda deserve it, and he makes Steve happy.” He didn’t quite look at Thor, fidgeting a little. “I can’t really do grudges. And even if I did - what Doom did? Makes me sick to think about. I don’t care what they did, nobody deserves that.” To be taken apart, examined like a specimen. It was too easy for Bruce to imagine himself in the same position, if Ross had gotten his way.

Silence, for long enough that Bruce had to look at Thor. He looked - well, dumbstruck. It occurred to Bruce to wonder how often Thor just didn’t mention Loki because he didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Or Steve, for that matter.

Maybe that thing he’d just said was something he should tell Steve.

“Right,” Bruce said, rubbing his hands on his pants. “We should maybe go? See how I can help.”

“Thank you,” Thor said, something in his voice that made Bruce just feel uncomfortable. A gratitude that he wasn’t sure he could live up to.

He supposed he’d just have to try.


	9. Clint - hang on (when the water is rising)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the Avengers' first meeting with the Maximoffs, Clint goes back to find the missing party member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one of those "someone asked for this and I was like _yes let me talk more about what's going on with literally everyone in this verse_ ", so here it is. The first Clint POV in Remember This Cold! (Maybe there will be more.) Set during "hang on (when the water is rising)". With thanks and love to my [beta](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), who looked this over for Clint-voice.

Nat’s eyes still wouldn’t focus on him, looking right through him at something else, and this was wrong, all wrong. He shouldn’t have used the charge arrow, should’ve just put something sharper straight through her eye, fuck magic or whatever it was supposed to be, _fuck_ it.

“Nat, hey,” he said, “look at me.” Her eyes focused slowly, but she still looked like she wasn’t really seeing him, still stuck wherever Wanda Maximoff had sent her. Clint gritted his teeth and stood up, almost tripping over Bruce huddled wrapped in a blanket and looking like he wanted to stop existing. Tony had stopped trying to talk to him and was just quiet for once. Thor was staring at the sky like it might have answers, and Steve just looked lost, though even as Clint turned he stirred, glancing around.

Clint realized right before Steve opened his mouth and asked, “where’s Loki?”

Silence. To Clint’s surprise, Thor hardly seemed to react. _I can’t leave Nat,_ he wanted to say. She _needed_ him right now and just wandering off to go looking for _Loki,_ of all people. Loki was a big boy, he could handle himself. Not _Clint’s_ problem.

Clint looked at the lot of them, shaky and headwrecked.

“I’ll go track him down,” he said roughly. Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but also like he wanted to be sick, so Clint just said, “I’ll be right back,” and left the plane.

The fact that Loki hadn’t come back on his own suggested three possibilities: he’d followed the Maximoffs when they left, he was dead, or the witchy Maximoff had gotten to him too. Option one seemed unlikely – if nothing else, Loki wouldn’t leave Steve without saying, probably – and option two was just wishful thinking. Which meant he was looking for Loki in who knew what kind of state, possibly dangerous. Just another fun day.

He kept one hand on the gun he’d taken from Nat as he went back into the warehouse, but Ultron and his buddies were gone. At this distance, he didn’t really need to look for Loki: he knew where he was, like a sixth sense. An echo of when he’d been able to tell what Loki was feeling, almost know what he was thinking.

God.

Loki was there all right. On his knees, staring into space and shuddering, and something in Clint’s chest lurched, thrumming _wrong,_ urging him to move, to do something. He stayed where he was, frozen, watching Loki in the grip of waking nightmare. A low noise issued from Loki’s throat, a sort of thin wail, and Clint almost turned tail and ran.

Wanda and her brother had been gone a half-hour, and the others had shaken the effects, which meant that what Clint was looking at now wasn’t magic – _neurochemical manipulation,_ whatever - just Loki.

Clint’s stomach flipped. _How does it feel having someone play with your brain, huh,_ he thought savagely, and wanted to find some satisfaction in it, but all he felt was sort of sick and uncomfortable. He knew Loki’s head was full of horrors. He wondered if that was why Wanda’d seemed shaken, off her game. So he might have Loki to thank, at least partially, for the fact that _his_ brain wasn’t leaking out his ears.

Very abruptly, Loki lurched to his feet and threw up over the railing. He stayed hanging there for a long moment before he coughed and straightened, turning his head like his neck hurt and staring at Clint like he’d never seen him before. He looked ghastly, face drawn and white, his eyes blank and hollow. Clint made himself meet them squarely, though, refusing to look away.

“How does it feel,” he said harshly. Loki deserved to know what it was like (even if he didn’t want that at all). Loki said nothing, still hanging over the railing, swaying. Breathing harsh and raggedly and too fast, the metal creaking where his hands clenched around it. Clint recognized the signs of his panic and felt again that tug, _do something._ “Are you all right?” Clint asked. Stupid question. The answer was obvious.

“Fine.” _Liar,_ Clint thought, but didn’t call him on it. Loki swallowed and licked his lips. “Where are…the witch and her brother,” he said. His voice sounded rough and shook slightly.

“Gone,” Clint said shortly. Loki nodded, just a little up-down jerk of his head. He looked maybe an inch or two from coming apart again. Clint didn’t like knowing that, didn’t like the way it made him feel. (Like he should offer comfort, or reassurance. Like he almost felt _sorry_ for Loki.) “It’s over.”

Loki nodded, made a sort of gasping noise like he was going to start laughing and swallowed it. He started shaking again, gasping breaths going even shallower-

(Clint remembered finding Loki like this underground, pulling him back out of it a little at a time. Coaxing him back into breathing, the rage he’d felt at whoever, whatever had done this, the way Loki had touched the side of his face and murmured _thank you_. He felt sick.)

“Snap out of it,” he said roughly. “We need to get out of here.” He’d left Natasha for this, Natasha who was hurting too and deserved it so much less. _Nobody deserves this,_ some part of him thought, and another in answer, _Loki does._

“The others,” Loki said, not quite a question. Clint found himself faintly surprised. Not even just _Steve_ or _Thor_ but _the others,_ like he was actually thinking about anyone but himself. Maybe he was just trying to cover for the worry, though. ( _The worry about Steve, and maybe Thor. You said it, didn’t you, that they’re the only things holding him back, but deep down_ -)

“Already out. In the same shape as you are, apparently.” Loki straightened like that stung, but he was still staring at nothing. Lost somewhere in his head. A part of Clint wondered in what: there was a lot in there to get lost in. He shoved that morbid curiosity away. “Can you walk?” Loki nodded jerkily, though Clint wasn’t sure he believed that. He took a half step forward when Loki let go of the railing, expecting to have to catch him as he swayed, but he did stay upright. Looking dazed, like he still didn’t quite know where he was. Barely clinging to reality. He moved, though, walking like it hurt.

Clint’s stomach turned and he made himself talk so he didn’t think. “Whatever she saw in your head did a number on her,” he mumbled, torn between studying Loki with morbid curiosity and not looking at him at all. “Guess that shouldn’t be a surprise.”

Loki’s throat bobbed visibly and for a moment Clint thought he was about to throw up again. The words bubbled up – _hey, it’s fine, do you need to stop_ – but he swallowed them back, almost sick at himself. “She did not manage to…to you.” Loki sounded almost worried. Like that _distressed_ him. Maybe it did, the idea of someone other than _him_ getting in Clint’s head.

He made himself snort. “No. Been there, done that.”

Loki made a sound and Clint nearly jumped, the hair on the back of his neck crawling. A laugh, he realized belatedly, that was supposed to be a laugh. It sounded awful, and also vaguely insane, and Clint had to convince himself not to take a step away. “If she had tried she would have found it harder than the rest,” he said, sounding almost _amused,_ and Clint’s stomach turned, staring at him. Loki smiled, the eerier for the blank emptiness that remained in his eyes. “Insurance. To keep others from turning you against me.”

Clint thought for a half second _he_ might vomit. Another half second and he was going to pull a knife and ram it into Loki’s side where he could see a gap in his armor. Didn’t matter if it killed him, it’d _hurt._ Then he just wanted to scream because Loki was supposed to be _out_ of his head, but of course he wasn’t, he was never going to be fucking _gone._

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t want Loki to know how it made him feel that anything of Loki’s was still there, in Clint’s head.

(But also. If Loki had told him this before, he would have been pleased. Elated, really; it would mean that he mattered, that Loki was _protecting_ him, even if he would’ve bridled at the implication that he would ever betray his _lord_ and fucking _master._

There was a part of him that still jumped up like a happy dog that Loki hadn’t seen him as expendable. Except he had, hadn’t he? What he’d said to Nat…)

This was why he couldn’t be around Loki. Everything got twisted up and turned inside out until he couldn’t quite remember which way was up. Because Clint didn’t hate him enough to keep it straight.

Clint turned his head to tell Loki – something, something to make sure he didn’t think Clint was _grateful_ , and checked himself. Loki wasn’t even looking at him. Clint recognized his expression.

_“Sir, you need to sit down. Listen to me, all right? Are you hearing me? That’s good, you’re doing good. Focus on me. No one’s watching, it’s just us.”_

Saliva flooded Clint’s mouth and he swallowed hard, looking away. Hey, he almost said. It’s gonna be fine. You feel like you’ve been ripped up and turned inside out, all your nightmares dredged up from the bottom, yeah? That gets better. You don’t forget how it feels, though. Knowing you’re that vulnerable, that someone can turn you against yourself like that, that knowledge doesn’t go away. But you survive.

Or not, but that’d be fine too.

But then, it might not be Loki’s first turn on this ride. The Chitauri hadn’t been contacting him in person, after all. They’d been in his head, and it’d occurred to Clint that he didn’t think those things were something you _wanted_ in your head. And he’d still passed it on, made other people go through that hell (only Clint could say it wasn’t his fault, even if he didn’t believe it).

It didn’t matter what happened to Loki. It mattered what he’d _done_.

Right.

Clint cut off his thoughts as they reached the Quinjet, marching up the ramp without looking back and going straight back to Natasha. She didn’t seem to have moved, though when he crouched down he saw her eyes were closed.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey, Nat. I’m back.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, though she still looked out of it and didn’t say anything. Clint felt a stab of worry.

“Can we take off now?” Tony asked, and Clint wanted to snap at him that this was _his_ fault, they were in this goddamn situation because he _had_ to go around proving he was the smartest in the room, but he swallowed that too. “Preferably before the local authorities come in and arrest us. Or worse, T’Challa finds out we broke his capital.”

Clint glanced back at the rest of them. Bruce huddled on the floor like he was trying to shrink into invisibility, Thor glowering at nothing, Tony fidgeting like his suit was full of ants and Steve’s shoulders hunched like he was trying to keep something out. And Loki, who still looked like he might vomit, or start screaming, or both. What a crowd they were. A crowd that needed someplace to stay and recover, where Ultron couldn’t find them.

Any of the safe houses that had been in Stark’s databases were out. Most of the SHIELD ones had been burned in the HYDRA fallout.

There was only one place they could go. The last place he’d ever wanted to bring his work. The last place he’d ever wanted to bring _Loki._

But it wasn’t like they had a lot of options.

“Hang on, Nat,” he murmured. “We’re gonna go home.”


	10. Wanda - hang on (when the water is rising)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda gets into Loki's head. She's not quite ready for what she finds there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another "someone asked me for an alternate POV so I did it" fic, this one wondering how Wanda reacted to Loki's Head and What She Found There. This is my first foray into Wanda POV. I am unspeakably nervous about it. But it was an interesting thing to write, for sure. (Set, obviously, during "hang on (when the water is rising)".

Wanda knew she had to be careful. She’d seen Loki’s power first hand, after all, in the attack where she and Pietro had escaped. It hadn’t exactly been subtle. So while she knew she had to be cautious, and above all  _quiet_ , she didn’t expect to have any trouble once she got into his head. Which was its own strange challenge - he didn’t even feel like the other alien, Thor, and she felt the resistance, brief though it was.

She felt a flush of triumph. From here she knew what to do, how to draw out nightmares and shadows and secret fears.

If it were physical, she would have compared it to the feeling of a snake winding around her and squeezing. She lashed out, realizing too late that Loki’s mind was full of snares and she’d walked into them. It was too late for him, though, her power already taking hold. Wanda tried to withdraw, but she couldn’t untangle herself quickly enough-

Ice. She was standing on a plain of ice, featureless and sterile, and several steps in front of her a blue figure was kneeling, staring at his hands. Loki fought it, she could feel him fighting back and a part of her felt an uncomfortable turn, still trying to pull herself away. Not quickly enough, and it was a dizzying blend of watching and feeling, fear and anger and  _pain:_

_falling through endless dark nothing, shouldn’t have let go, should have just made him kill you, that would have been more merciful, can’t even die right_

_they’re trying to peel off his skin in one sheet and he stopped screaming long before because his throat was too raw to take it, take it you weakling,_ take it

_Doom will pay for this he will pay for ah Norns his hands, get his hands out of me please_

_he thrusts a spear through Steve’s chest and she hears-_

Wanda tore herself loose, stumbling back, alone in her own head though she could feel herself shaking. For a few moments, she’d hardly known herself, hardly been able to keep herself separate. She took several steps back, staring at him with wide eyes, but Loki hadn’t moved except to sink to his knees. She turned and Pietro was there, steadying her before she even felt she was swaying.

“What did he do to you,” he said, low and fierce, always trying to be her protector. Wanda shook her head and pushed at his chest.

“There’s one more,” she said. “Somewhere here, the archer.” She tried to steady and center herself, to shake off the lingering images, the urge to check and see that her own body was whole. Wanda hadn’t been ready. She hadn’t expected him, hadn’t expected anyone to be able to counter her abilities.

She felt cold. Pietro was hovering, glancing between her and Loki.

“Go,” she said, giving him another little shove. “We need to finish this, and leave.” There was a faint disquiet in her stomach that had only grown in size, but she wasn’t going to turn back now.

* * *

Wanda woke up with a headache, Pietro hovering over her. He was at her side in a flash, talking too quickly as he always did when he was upset.

“I’m fine,” she said. “What…” Oh. The archer, of course.

“Are you certain?” Pietro’s pinched expression made her sigh, and she reached out to squeeze his arm.

“You know I am.” She sat up, rubbing her temples with her other hand. Pietro replaced her hands with his own, kneeling down in front of her. She smiled faintly at him, heart not really in it. “Ultron?”

Pietro’s nose wrinkled. “Playing with his new scientist.” He paused. “I do not like it,” he said in a rush. “He uses that scepter the same way Strucker did.” She could feel his disquiet, only worsened by the fact that she had been unconscious. She knew, too, that he was looking for reassurance.

“Remember who our true enemy is,” she murmured, running her fingers absently through his hair. She knew it was not convincing, though, knew Pietro would be aware of her doubts. He didn’t question her further, though, just looked up at her frowning.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Nothing useful.” Wanda closed her eyes and took Pietro’s wrists, pulling his hands away from her head. “Loki…I didn’t expect him.” Her mistake, though almost immediately she could feel a pulse of guilt from Pietro. More overwhelming, though, was the tangle of memories, not hers, still lingering in her brain, that surged to the forefront the moment she thought of him. Two images foremost: a sterile medical lab under the knife, and the other, the one she found more alarming, not least because she could almost taste the horror and fear that tainted it. Helplessness and despair and pain enough to make her shudder. She retreated from the onslaught, squeezing Pietro’s arms to ground herself.

Pietro scowled. “He  _did_ do something to you.”

“No,” Wanda said, and then amended, “he would have, but it was too late. It’s just…” she shuddered, twitching her shoulders like she could shake off the memories. “I almost got lost,” she said, in a smaller voice. “It was different than with the others. Because of what he is, I think, but also…” Wanda trailed off. She didn’t know how to put it into words, the overwhelming feeling of being caught in someone else’s memory. In someone else’s nightmare.

One that brushed too closely against her own.

If she didn’t remind herself what Loki was, how many she had seen him kill in Sokovia, that he would have killed  _her_  - Wanda could almost feel sorry for him. As it was, she just felt tired and sick. She knew it would haunt her sleep, these foreign memories.

But of course, Pietro didn’t need to hear her say any of that to know. “Sister,” he said, meaning in that one word that no one but she would hear. She gave him a small smile.

“Don’t fret, brother,” she said. “I will be fine.”

(Still: a name, barely acknowledged, lingered at the back of her mind. It meant nothing to her, but it meant a great deal to Loki, and for that reason she thought it might be best to remember. It had echoed throughout his mind, reverberating over and over.  _Thanos._ )

_Remember me, Loki. I will remember you. Remember the price of failure. Remember the price of failing me._

Wanda stifled her shiver. Not her memory. Not her fear.

(Just as real.)

 


	11. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finds something unexpected on a quiet night in the Avengers compound. Someone unexpected. It's Loki. He's drunk. 
> 
> Set after "hang on (when the water is rising)" and possibly also after "Shrapnel".

This  _being part of a team_ thing was still new, and Natasha found that she appreciated the rare quiet nights when she had the compound to herself. Or at least it was just her and Vision, and Vision knew when she wanted to be left alone.

Or apparently, tonight, her and Vision and Loki.

There was something distinctly odd about his posture, sprawled on one of the couches and looking more relaxed than she’d seen him since…well, possibly ever. She might’ve thought he was asleep, if it weren’t for the fact that he was talking aggressively to the TV, currently playing  _Return of the King._

Natasha eyed Loki, who was apparently unaware of her presence. Another oddity, she thought. Frankly, she was surprised to see Loki here when she knew for a fact Steve was out with Sam. Loki might skulk around the fringes but he didn’t tend to stay here. She considered walking away and finding a different distant corner to get her precious alone time, but it wasn’t going to be the same as long as she knew Loki was here.

Her intensity of feeling might have faded some, but Natasha wasn’t such an idiot as to trust Loki half as far as she could throw him, and she was pretty sure if it came down to it he wouldn’t think twice about throwing the rest of the Avengers under the bus - and possibly a lot more than that - if it meant saving Steve.

“I don’t think they can hear you,” Natasha said, by way of announcing her presence.

Loki startled to his feet fast (expecting attack, Natasha’s brain catalogued automatically. Paranoid, tense). She wondered if she should be worrying about a breakdown; Loki seemed less prone to jumping at shadows than he had in the immediate aftermath of the Ultron Incident and Thor’s announcement of the new and bigger problem they’d need to deal with eventually, but that was a low bar.

Thor hadn’t said much beyond what he needed to, and no one had actually said the word  _tortured,_ but Natasha could read between the lines. Honestly she wasn’t even that surprised.

If Loki stood up ready for a fight, though, he relaxed quickly. “Ah,” he said, with a loose half smile. “Agent Romanov.” He bowed, though it looked a little less than steady, and Natasha realized he was holding a glass of something she’d bet wasn’t water. “I was not. Was not aware that you were still here.”

“Long commute back to New York for those of us without teleportation powers,” she said blandly.

“It isn’t teleportation,” Loki objected, sounding ever so slightly petulant. “How many _times_ do I have to explain that teleportation refers to the transfer of matter from one place to another. I do not move across distance, I close the distance and then step through the - oh,  _never mind._ ”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “You’ve never explained that to me before.” She wondered who he had. Thinking too much about magic still made  _her_ skin crawl.

“I haven’t?” Loki frowned at her, eyebrows furrowing. “Hm. No, I suppose not. Well. I haven’t the time to teach you the details of magical theory, I am afraid, so-” He made a sort of shooing motion. Natasha didn’t even twitch.

“But you have the time to get drunk,” she said, not bothering to mask the distaste in her voice. “I thought you couldn’t.”

“Not on  _mortal_ alcohol,” Loki said. He dropped gracelessly back onto the couch, flicking his fingers at the TV, which obligingly switched off. “Fortunate then, that Thor left a few bottles of Alfheim’s finest.” He smiled expansively at Natasha. “Thus.”

“Uh huh,” Natasha said. She took a step closer. “I wouldn’t have put you down as the type to go on a bender.”

“Mm. No?” Loki took a generous swallow from his quarter-full glass, then offered it to her. “Try. I assure you it is far better than whatever Aesir piss was served you.” It smelled vaguely like spice and honey, with just a faint tang of something else. Natasha held up her hands.

“I think I’ll abstain.” Loki shrugged, made a sort of  _suit yourself_ face, and tossed back the rest of the glass, setting it down just a bit too hard. “So,” Natasha asked carefully, “any particular reason you’re getting drunk alone here?”

“I am not,” Loki said, and then frowned. “Well. I am not  _alone._ Anymore.” He smiled at her, though to her eye it was brittle.

“Really, Loki?” She said. “You’re going to argue semantics with me?”

“Worth trying,” Loki mumbled, head dropping back to hang over the back of the couch, swallowing with what looked like effort. “I was. Hmm. Thinking too much.” His eyes slanted sideways toward her. “A familiar problem. Does that ever happen to you, Agent Romanov? Your thoughts a whirl, never landing on one thing for long and yet trying to hold six ideas at once. A constant clamor that renders any true thought impossible.” Natasha kept her face impassive, and Loki scoffed, eyes turning back forward. “No, I suppose not. But that is why. Alcohol slows everything down. Blurs the edges of things so they can’t cut. As deeply.” Loki huffed a laugh. “Or else makes them sharper. One never quite knows which it will be.”

“No,” Natasha said after a moment. “One doesn’t.” She was almost embarrassed, now. This felt…voyeuristic. “You should go home.”

“Can’t. Right now. Lack of focus…could end up falling between universes.” Loki shuddered, half smile fading. “I would rather not…do that again.”

 _Again,_ Natasha thought, and remembered what Thor had said.  _After his fall from Asgard, Thanos found him._ She shifted slightly, not exactly in discomfort. The spy part of her wanted to press:  _is that where Thanos lives? How does he survive? Could you get back there by choice?_ She wasn’t sure, though, that Loki wouldn’t get violent when afraid, especially when his inhibitions were lowered as much as it seemed they were. She kept herself to a simple, “understandable.”

“Is it?” Loki’s expression turned thoughtful. “Sometimes I wonder if…” He trailed off, then seemed to shake himself. “No matter.”

Natasha paused, but after a moment she circled around the couch and sat down. Keeping distance between her and Loki, but not an extreme amount. “It’s fear,” she said. “Isn’t it? That’s what you can’t stop thinking about. Thanos.”

Loki shot her a sharp, alarmed look. “Don’t,” he hissed. “Names have power. His more than most. Do not…do not use it. Norns.” He dragged a hand over his face. Natasha could tell his mood had turned from the expansive relaxation of before and held herself ready. She had no experience of Loki drunk, no idea if he would lash out or how he might react differently than she would expect.

“Sorry,” she said, more to appease than out of any real chagrin. “I didn’t know.”

“Thor did not…” Loki trailed off, and huffed, looking away, though he seemed more unhappy than annoyed. “No. Why repeat the words of a madman.” Loki picked absently at his left palm. Natasha wondered if he realized he was doing it or if it was just a nervous gesture. “In answer to your question: yes, I am afraid. You should be as well. You do not…understand. What you will face.”

Natasha turned more fully to face him. “Then explain it to me.”

Loki opened his mouth, then closed it. His face fell as he shook his head. “You think you can win,” he said. “You cannot. All of you are doomed. You might fight, but in the end you will still die.” He looked away. “I am sorry.”

He sounded like he meant it, too. Natasha felt a cold lurch in her stomach: panic she could have dismissed, or cruelty, but Loki just sounded utterly sure of himself, like she might say the sun would rise in the morning. Resigned. She could feel him studying her.

“A pity I finished the liquor,” Loki said, almost apologetic.

“So that’s it,” she said, grabbing on to the flare of anger. “You’re just giving up?”

“No,” Loki said. “Not exactly. Only…” He trailed off, stuttered a laugh. “Assessing my options. I am afraid Asgard may have fallen already. Would I know?” Loki’s lips twisted. “Would I feel it if the Mad Titan ripped Thor’s heart out?”

Natasha almost flinched. She’d wondered about the long silence, what might be happening a world away, but no one knew. “Can’t you reach anyone?” She asked.

Loki closed his eyes. “No. Not for some time now.”

Something cold dropped into the pit of Natasha’s stomach. “Oh,” she said. She’d never thought to be worried about Thor. He was  _Thor._ Maybe the least breakable of all of them, except the Hulk. ( _Where’d_ you _go, Bruce?_ )

“Cheers,” Loki said grimly, and laughed, soft and bitter. The overhead light caught damp tracks on his cheeks. Not a violent drunk, Natasha thought. Just miserable.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Loki said distantly, “if it would not have been better if I never stopped falling.”

Natasha stood up jerkily, the feeling of voyeurism returning. “You’re not going to be happy about saying any of this to me tomorrow,” she said.

“Is it that much you did not already know, or guess?” Loki said, his smile bitter. Another tear spilled out the corner of his eye, and he took a shuddering breath. “And even if I do…what of it?”

Natasha looked away.  _Good question,_ she thought. It wasn’t like they were friends; at most they were professional sort-of-colleagues. There’d been a time when Natasha would have enjoyed seeing Loki humiliated. She didn’t now.

Something occurred to her and she stiffened. “Loki,” she said, “if you’re planning some kind of idiot solo move on Th- this Titan, don’t. The only person you’d be protecting would be yourself.”

Loki’s eyes snapped open and Natasha realized she’d hit her mark. Or at least part of one. “As though an action being selfish has ever deterred me,” he said after a beat too long.

“And what do you think that would do to Steve,” Natasha said coldly. She hit that mark too. Loki’s eyes skated away.

“That is the trap, isn’t it?” Loki said softly after a moment. “I cannot…cannot keep him safe. No matter how I turn. I cannot see a way out.”

“Yet,” Natasha said. “Can’t  _yet._  And some of that’s the alcohol talking.” And some of it…maybe she should let Steve know about this little conversation. And maybe he didn’t need more to worry about.

“Yet,” Loki echoed, after a long moment. Better than nothing. Maybe.


	12. Thor - This Is My Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is starting to wonder if he has any friends in Asgard. Or, well. If Loki does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on my [tumblr](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com) asked about the mention that Thor had accused Sif of wanting Loki dead, and wanting more on Thor's feelings of isolation and helplessness during Loki's trial. And, well, I always like to write sad!Thor. That probably says something bad about me. Oh well.

Sif found him in his rooms, pacing back and forth in a futile attempt to calm his temper after his -  _conversation_ with his father. She knocked on the door, strangely formal.

“Who is it,” Thor asked roughly. 

“Sif,” she said, after a moment. Thor hesitated a long second before letting her in. He concentrated on keeping his expression neutral and said nothing, just looking at her. She shifted from one foot to the other. “Thor,” she said. “I…know this is hard for you.” 

“Hard for me,” Thor echoed flatly. “Because my brother is on trial for his life? Yes, you could say that I am  _ill at ease.”_ Sif pressed her lips together, and Thor spoke sharply. “What is it, Sif?”

She met his eyes squarely. “I do not want there to be bad blood between us. I am, as I have always been, your loyal friend.” 

“Mine,” Thor said. “But not Loki’s.” 

Sif stiffened. “You twist my words.”

“Do I? You have ever been suspicious of him, whether warranted or not. And the Allfather sent you to bring him back-”

“To  _persuade_ you,” Sif said. “He knew you trust me, or at least you once did. He believed you would listen to me, to  _reason.”_

_“Reason?”_ Thor said, his voice rising. “Is it  _reason,_ that Loki is to be sacrificed to these -  _hounds?”_ Sif hesitated, and mingled rage and hurt flared hot in Thor’s gut. “You think so,” he said, stepping back. “You believe as the Allfather does, that Loki’s life is a price worth paying to appease Njord and his dogs.” 

“I do not think-” Sif looked pained. “Thor, Loki  _chose_ to come here. He accepted it. And with everything he’s done…”

“Yes,” Thor said, his lips twisting. “Exactly. Between his own safety and a threat to me, my brother chose to come here. To leave the small peace he has managed to find on Midgard, expecting that he would perish. Such  _villainy.”_  

“No one likes anything about this,” Sif said. “It is - despicable, that is true. But there is no choice-”

“There  _is,”_ Thor snapped. “There is, but only  _I_ am willing to make it. Loki lives yet and I am  _not_ going to let Asgard kill him.”

“Thor,” Sif protested. “You put  _yourself_ in danger. Not just yourself, but Asgard itself. You haven’t been here, you haven’t heard what they say of you - that Loki has beguiled you, that you are grown weak and soft on Midgard-”

“Let them test me on the field,” Thor snarled. “And see who is weak and soft then.”

“Then they will simply say you are too wild, out of control. Perhaps they will lay that at Loki’s feet too. For the sake of your father, Thor, your mother-”

“My mother would not want to lose her son a third time!” Thor shouted. “Stop hiding behind these excuses of politics, Sif. You think Loki should die. You believe my brother  _deserves_ the axe. This is not just about Asgard, this is about the hatred you bear him-” 

“Thor!” Sif exclaimed, her eyes widening. 

“Admit it,” Thor yelled, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Perhaps you should run off to pad at Njord’s heels, since you seem to sympathize with his cause-”

Sif stepped forward, surprise turning to anger. “Do not dare,  _Prince Thor,”_ she said, voice trembling, “to accuse me of disloyalty. I have defended you, over and over again. I would  _never_ turn against you.” She took a step closer, pushing into his space, glaring at him. “As for Loki - how quickly  _you_ forget. He was my friend, too. I thought of him like a brother. That I am angry, that I want to protect you, does not mean I want him to  _die._ I never expected- _”_ She broke off, looked down. “I do not want this,” she said, quietly. 

Thor took a step back, his anger doused, heartache returning in its place. “What did you think would happen,” he asked, wearily, bitterly. “Did you think he would turn and run, leaving me in peril? Loki-” Thor choked off the end of that sentence.  _Loki holds his life to weigh very little._

Sif looked away, quiet for a long moment. “Is that truly what you think of me?” she said. “That I am so fickle, so disloyal? That I would ever…if I truly had a quarrel with Loki, I would challenge him myself. Not like this. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Sif,” Thor said. He still remembered the sinking feeling, the awful stab of betrayal as he realized that Sif had not come to explain everything away. He remembered watching Loki’s face as he listened to Sif speak, the unease growing in his chest, not realizing until too late that he knew that clarity, that calm. It was not truly her fault. He knew that. But it felt, in some way, that it was. “I am sorry,” he said, finally. 

“As am I,” Sif said. She stepped back, her shoulders squared, her mouth thin with hurt Thor did not know how to, or perhaps did not want to, soothe. “I am loyal to you, Thor, and to Asgard,  _and_ to Loki. Whatever you believe of me. And if I can help, I will.” She bowed, stiffly formal. “My Prince.”

“Sif,” Thor said again, but he knew he had wounded. As he had meant to. Sif paused, but when he said nothing further she went out and closed the door behind. 

She would forgive him, Thor knew. But he could not unsay what he had said. 

He was not even certain he wanted to. 


	13. Clint - This Is My Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint, left behind, doesn't know what to do with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise these aren't all "Kingdom Come" based fics, just this one and the last one and also a few other ones. Look, there was a lot going on in that fic that didn't fit in the main thing, okay? (She said defensively, probably to no one at all.)
> 
> I love writing Clint and I love even more writing Clint messed up in the head and his weird relationship with Loki. If you want the rambling headcanon-y version of this fic, it's [here.](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com/post/134568178600/chatty-mood-you-say-i-mean-oh-hello-is-this-where)
> 
> As always, I'm available for questions/conversation over on my [mess of a blog.](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com)

He said his goodbyes early and didn’t go up to the roof to see them off to Asgard. Tried to push down the childish feeling of being left behind. 

_ Take care of yourself,  _ Clint told Natasha roughly.  _ Don’t get attached to some Asgardian beefcake and forget to come back, huh? _

_ “Because that sounds like me,”  _ Natasha had snorted. He’d already said everything important in the endless conversations hashing out what they were going to do.

Clint stopped chewing on his thumbnail when he broke skin, but that didn’t stop the more generalized fidgeting. Two hours since Nat and the others (weak, Barton) took off, and he was a mess. Stupid, was what it was. Pathetic. Natasha could take care of herself anywhere, and she’d keep an eye on Steve, make sure he didn’t get in any trouble. Asgard was Thor’s home, even if they were apparently being assholes about it right now. 

He didn’t give a damn what happened to Loki.

(Did. Did give a damn. That was why he’d told Nat more about the stuff he’d noticed, the way the Chitauri contacted Loki, the way he’d looked in New Mexico on landing. _ Mitigating factors.  _ His words making him a witness for the defense.)

For Steve and Thor, Clint told himself, drumming his fingers on his leg. Not because the idea of Loki being killed made his stomach twist like there was something fundamentally wrong with even thinking it. Because he’d been (was still) a good and loyal slave.  _ Fuck.  _

He called Laura, but hearing her voice on the other end just made him tense up more. “Hey,” he said anyway. “How’re things?” 

“Good,” Laura said. “The kids are with my sister for the day, giving me a bit of a break. You?” 

“Just fine,” Clint said, and then exhaled. He’d promised Laura a long time ago that he wouldn’t lie to her. “Nat’s gone. Her and Thor and Steve and…him. To space, for some kind of trial.” 

“Is that…a bad thing?” Laura asked. He could hear her voice turn careful and felt a little turn of guilt.  _ He knows about you,  _ he’d told her, one of the first things he’d said after coming home.  _ You and the kids. I told him.  _

“I don’t know,” Clint said honestly. “There’s some…political shit. Might be dangerous. I don’t know.” He was afraid she would ask  _ what do you want to have happen.  _ Clint didn’t know how he’d answer. “Just wanted to talk to you.”

“Lila’s working on a report on sea turtles,” Laura said. “Well - ‘report’ is a bit extravagant. But that’s what she’s calling it. Cooper’s going to be reading a poem at the school assembly next month.” 

Clint felt himself smile, just a little. “I’ll try to be there for it.”

Laura was quiet for a moment. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Really.”

Clint didn’t know the answer to that one either. He allowed himself a little lie, though. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Say hi to the kids for me.”

He hung up just as Tony popped his head into the room. “Who’re you talking to? Do you have friends other than me?” 

“Funny,” Clint said roughly. Tony made a face. 

“Not my best. Hey, I’m having a  _ we didn’t get to go to space  _ party, Star Wars on the big screen. You in? I wrangled Bruce and Pepper too, but Bruce is terrible at movies and Pepper hates Star Wars. Save me” 

“Yeah,” Clint said after a moment. “Sure.” 

* * *

Two days since liftoff. Clint stood on the roof and stared up at the cloudless sky until his neck started to hurt. Maybe he should’ve gone. They’d talked about it, Natasha and him, whether it might be good to have someone they couldn’t possibly call biased in Loki’s favor (but that wasn’t true, was it). The thought of going to Asgard, standing up and telling a whole court of aliens what Loki had done to him made Clint want to vomit. 

Right now he just wanted to crawl out of his own skin. How long would this take? What happened if-?

He fiddled with his phone, tempted to call Laura again, but not wanting to scare her. His head felt like it was full of knots. The kind of mood he wanted to get drunk in, and the kind of mood he knew he shouldn’t. 

Clint turned when he heard the door open. Bruce, calling something the wind snatched away. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Clint headed back. “What’d you say?” 

“I said, good spot, isn’t it,” Bruce said. “I was just coming up here. Tony’s driving me crazy. I can’t tell if he’s worried or just pissed that he doesn’t get to poke at alien technology.”

“Probably both,” Clint muttered. “Far as I’m concerned Asgard can fuck itself. Don’t deserve Thor.” 

Bruce smiled, sort of. “I bet at this point he’s won all of them back over. He has charisma like that.” 

Clint shrugged. He knew they were stepping around all the important stuff, but that was fine. Probably fine with Bruce, too. “Bet Steve’s drowning in Asgardian ladies,” he said. “Exotic Midgardian dreamboat.” 

“Heh. Yeah.” Bruce’s smile weakened a little, and Clint realized that would probably be awkward, people hitting on you when your boyfriend was on trial for his life. Clint clenched his fist, but it didn’t really help relieve the tension.

(He’d had a dream last night that featured Loki’s severed head in a starring role, Natasha’s right next to it. Steve saying  _ how could you  _ and Clint couldn’t tell what he’d done wrong, was this his fault? 

Steve’s eyes, accusing and red-rimmed.  _ How could you.  _ He’d turned and looked in the mirror and bright blue eyes stared back at him, mouthed  _ traitor. _ )

He couldn’t shake the conviction that there was some chunk of him that would be ripped out if Loki died. But maybe that was a chunk he wanted gone, cut out like an infection. 

Clint just wanted this over. 

(He wasn’t sure what  _ over  _ meant.)


	14. clone!Steve - Collapse the Light Into Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The short, sad life of Steve Rogers, version 5.3. (Set during "Collapse the Light Into Earth".)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, I'm not sure why, the idea popped into my head of writing fic from the point of view of the Steve clone in "Collapse." I kind of played with the idea a little, wondering what it would be like - I've never been hugely into Winter Soldier Steve AUs as a rule, which is what it seemed closest to being (if a short version), but I found myself kind of intrigued by the idea of writing from the point of view of such a minor character who is completely and utterly doomed. 
> 
> This is a bleak little piece and it was a fun one to write, though "fun" seems like an odd word. It was an interesting headspace to occupy for a little while, and how fun to write one of the most painful scenes from that fic again, from a different perspective.

They purged the last defective around mid-morning. He heard the single shot and the sudden quiet, the cessation of screams. He hadn’t realized how much they’d started to grate until they stopped.

In private, he allowed a little bit of pity for the defectives. It wasn’t their fault, but the termination was still necessary.

He got up and moved over to the door to look through. A small privilege, earned through obedience, that meant they no longer locked him down when he wasn’t in testing or training. He watched two agents carry a limp body out. Something was changing, he knew, and it wasn’t just that the batch had been winnowed down until he was the only one left. It was like an infection spreading through the soldiers and agents, making them tense and nervous, like they were expecting something.

He could just hear the agents through the door: –long are we going to stay here?” One of them was saying. “It’s stupid. We should disperse, go underground-”

“Shh,” hissed the other. “Do you want someone to hear you?”

“I don’t care. I heard the Brussels lab went dark yesterday. I’m about ready to just make a run for it on foot. Seems like my chances’ll be about as good that way.”

The other one shook his head. “Don’t be stupid. HYDRA always rises again.”

“From _this?_ The goddamn Avengers are one thing, but those two are something else. They’re _exterminating_ us, and if you think I’m going to wait around for them to show up here-”

Then they noticed him looking, and stopped talking. He backed away, frowning. He’d been right that something was happening, but he still didn’t know what. Not the Avengers. _Those two._ He sat down on the bed and kept himself from twitching, no matter how much he wanted to.

Maybe an hour later Doctor Tillsman came - he knew who it was because Tillsman always knocked before entering, and he was the only one who did.

“Is there an attack coming?” He asked.

Tillsman looked at him for a long moment. “It’s possible, yes,” he said.

“What do you need me to do?”

Tillsman shook his head and came over. Steve raised his chin to let him check his lymph nodes. “Nothing, yet.” He shone a light in Steve’s eyes, first one and then the other. He wanted to ask what was happening, but no one had volunteered the information, so he probably wasn’t supposed to know. The cold of the stethoscope as Tillsman listened to his lungs made him want to shiver, but he barely noticed the prick of the needle used to draw blood anymore.

“Clean,” he informed Steve, who felt a pulse of relief that he hadn’t been found unworthy yet. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your orders when it’s time.”

He left. Oddly, he didn’t lock the door.

* * *

No one came to bring him his evening meal. Hunger started to gnaw at his guts along with unease, and he stared at the unlocked door, wondering if this was a test. Of obedience, or endurance, or both. He decided it probably was, and settled back. He slept poorly, though, with the quiet and his hunger keeping him awake.

It was the hunger that lured him out, eventually. He could feel himself getting weak and rationalized that maybe the test was about his ability to fend for himself. When he emerged, though, the halls were deserted. The entire facility, as far as he could tell, had been emptied, except for him.

 _Abandoned._ The word went through him like an electric shock, but he pushed it away quickly with all it implied, stifled the brief sense of betrayal too much like disloyalty. His handlers would be back. This might be a test, too, or there was an emergency that needed all hands. They hadn’t locked him down, which was a show of faith. That seemed like a good sign.

Still, it made him decidedly uneasy. He retreated back into his room and made the bed, waiting for another half hour before he went back out, made his way to the kitchen, and guiltily made himself a tuna sandwich. Time went on, but no one came back.

He remembered the conversation he’d overheard, abruptly - _they’re exterminating us._ Had the facility been evacuated? Had they forgotten about him? Should he try to follow?

Steve didn’t know. He’d never been given instructions for this situation.

Never been given instructions for any situation _like_ this. Protocol said assets were to be terminated in case of security breaches. Protocol said he shouldn’t be left alone like this, at loose ends, he should have been briefed, he should have-

_You’re on your own._

He would have come to this point eventually, if all went as planned, Steve reminded himself. It was fine. Still, he felt a chill down his spine. They’d left him here because they knew he’d be able to survive, he told himself. Not weak like the others.

The base felt too large, when he was the only one occupying it. He went to the labs because they were familiar, ran on the treadmill for a while, then lay back on one of the examination tables and stared at the ceiling. He wished he had the ability to lock himself in; it felt like too much freedom being able to wander like this. Nothing to ground himself with. Purposeless.

* * *

Steve found some lockers and broke into them for some replacement clothes. They didn’t fit him well, but it was something to wear while he washed his own clothes in a bathroom sink and hung them up to dry.

He’d considered leaving, but if someone came back and found that he wasn’t here, that would be…bad. Some part of him held out hope that someone _would_ come back, take him away and tell him what to do, but that hope dwindled every day that passed. There were enough resources in the base to last for several months, at least, so that would not be an issue for some time.

There was a bank of computers in one room, and Steve sat down to try to use one, but it was password-locked and he’d never been given a password. He put his fist through the screen, frustrated, and then cringed at himself. _Erratic behavior._ One of the signs the defectives showed. There was no one to see, but Steve was still careful to sweep up the glass. He found a kit for blood testing in the labs, but didn’t know how to use it and couldn’t have interpreted the results.

 _No fear,_ he told himself, even as his heart started to race. _You are worthy. You are whole._

He ran for almost forty-five minutes, until his legs shook from exhaustion, and went to sleep on the examination table.

* * *

Steve was sorting through one of the cabinets of food to find what had gone bad when he heard the door clang open. He stopped at once, his first thought _they’ve come back._

He should go back to his room and wait for orders.

 _No._ The thought came to him unbidden. _Don’t wait. Find out for yourself._

Exiting the kitchen, Steve moved cautiously down the hall, navigating carefully back toward the entrance. He couldn’t hear anything - if HYDRA had really come back, they wouldn’t be so quiet. Unless they thought he’d gone defective.

Had he? He’d stopped shutting himself in his room at night. He’d started to like being able to eat when he chose, however much he liked. His spine didn’t ache anymore from having fluid drawn. It wasn’t the degeneration he knew affected most of the defectives, but maybe it was a different kind.

Someone was approaching. He hung back in the shadows and waiting as the footsteps drew nearer. Maybe this was one of the attackers that he’d overheard the guards talking about. Maybe _this_ was his test. Maybe if he killed one of them, or both, his handlers would come back and give him some kind of orders.

Steve punched for his face, but the man dodged, inhumanly fast. He wheeled to attack again, but something invisible caught him, yanking him into the air off his feet.

The man looking at him - his expression changed from a near snarl to an expression of shock, confusion, pain, skin going white. Steve fought, but there was no give whatsoever in whatever invisible bonds were holding him, and that was strange, made no sense whatsoever. But he - he knew that face from somewhere. Some briefing he’d been given, or glimpsed once, maybe, but he couldn’t remember what it had been.

“Steve?” He said, sounding uncertain, his voice wavering slightly. His jaw worked, visibly. “You are alive,” he said, like he was surprised by the news. Steve tried not to react, to stay impassive and show nothing. His training–

His training was supposed to prepare him for this. But he felt…unsure.

“Your name,” the stranger said, and that at least he could answer, easily, the biographical information he’d memorized until it almost felt like his own. The stranger stared at him, rocking slightly, and Steve felt something - odd. A vague pressure on his mind half familiar from one or two dimly remembered sessions, and while he braced himself for pain none came, and the feeling passed soon.

The bonds released, very suddenly. Steve braced, but no further attack came, no move to resume hostilities. “What do you know of HYDRA?” The stranger asked. Steve wondered what this was. He shouldn’t answer. But the world had gone upside down anyway.

“They’re my masters,” he said.

“And what happened to the others?” He asked. Steve straightened.

“They were unworthy,” he said. The look the stranger gave him, sharp and sudden, made him want to step back, but he held his ground. He knew it was a mercy to finish them, the broken defectives, the failures.

He looked away from Steve, staring into the distance, and Steve watched him, frowning and trying to remember why he recognized that face.

“Come here,” he said abruptly, seemingly having come to some kind of decision. “All will be well.”

He hesitated. “Who are you?”

“It does not matter.” He moved toward Steve slowly, and against all training he held still. He’d been abandoned here, some part of him thought. Left to die, most likely. He should welcome that, knowing it was what was necessary - but hadn’t he proven himself? Hadn’t he shown that he could be useful?

Maybe the stranger would see it. He seemed to know Steve. The other one, probably, but…

“You aren’t one of them,” he said, though he already knew the answer. “One of my masters.”

“No,” the stranger said. “I am not.” An intense sadness swept across his face. He reached out and touched Steve’s face, not quite cradling it in his hands. It felt…strange. Gentle, kind. Like Dr. Tillsman could be, at times, but more personal, Like this was meant for _him._

There was an odd tingling feeling on his skin, emanating from the cold points where the stranger’s fingers touched his face. Taking a shallow breath, Steve closed his eyes. “What is that?” He asked. “It feels…”

“I’m sorry,” the stranger said, voice fracturing. Steve wanted to ask what he was apologizing for, but the tingling intensified, almost like static electricity prickling where their skin touched. It didn’t feel bad, exactly. Just strange, oddly intense. Like a strange kind of connection.

He almost wanted more.


	15. Clint - post-hang on (when the water is rising)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint runs into Loki at the upstate compound. It is not his idea of a good time. 
> 
> It's not as bad as it could be, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A belated birthday gift for my wonderful [beta](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com). I really need to do more with Clint in this verse, and would really like to - and since I set up for an encounter like this in "hang on" I figured I might as well write the payoff.

Clint made his first trip upstate three months after Ultron tried to crash Sokovia into the Earth. Laura was taking Nathaniel Barton to visit his grandparents, who still seemed to think that Clint was a vaguely suspicious character not good enough for their daughter, and while Clint hadn’t exactly been _not_ invited…well. It wasn’t like he was too broken up about missing a weekend of slanted comments about Brad-the-doctor-from-middle-school-wasn’t-he-a-nice-boy.

Besides, this way he got to catch up with Nat, and see the twins and Steve. He was getting to like Sam, too, though they were still just acquaintances. Nice, relaxing weekend, getting to sleep all the way through the night, _good stuff._

“Agent Barton,” said the last person he wanted to see. “I wasn’t aware you were…visiting.”

Clint wondered if he’d ever get rid of that split second reaction whenever he looked at Loki, the shiver somewhere between fear and longing, like a reflex or the jerk when you missed a step going down stairs. He kept his eyes fixed on Loki’s, refusing to look away. It probably just made his discomfort more obvious, but it was better than the alternative and he kind of figured Loki knew how uncomfortable he was anyway.

Loki knew too much about him not to. Sometimes Clint wondered how much the others understood that, if they knew that Loki probably knew him better than almost anyone else, maybe even better than Laura or Nat.

“I didn’t know you were here either,” Clint said, hammering his voice into neutrality. “Just. Yeah. Visiting for a few days.”

He was supposed to be getting better at this. And he _was,_ sort of - it was progress, being able to look at Loki at all, being able to think about him without wanting to crawl out of his skin. Loki gave him a long, strange look, and then glanced away.

“I see,” he said, something odd in his voice that Clint didn’t recognize, which was surprising - the knowing didn’t just go one way. “I shall leave you to your visiting, then.” He inclined his head, stiffly formal. “Good day.”

“Wait,” Clint said, and then wanted to swear. Loki’d been about to leave. He had his chance for a guaranteed Loki-free weekend and he was going to toss that away? Or even just voluntarily enter into a conversation-

_I unmade you. Turned you against those you love. And I am sorry._

Years, Clint had wanted to hear that. Maybe in his imagination there’d been more begging and groveling, but then Loki had looked and sounded pretty wrecked at the time. In his imagination he’d spat on it, taken a vicious kind of pride in letting Loki know how little remorse mattered. But that had been before.

He had fought so hard to think that Loki wasn’t changing, hadn’t changed. That everyone else was wrong, that they were all blind, that Loki was suckering all of them into thinking he was something he fundamentally wasn’t.

Loki glanced at him sidelong, wary, suspicious. Like _he_ was the one who had something to worry about from _Clint_. “What is it?”

Clint shifted his jaw and made himself shrug. “Just saying that you don’t have to abandon ship for my sake. I can deal with being in the same building as you.”

“Can you?” Loki said, one eyebrow twitching up, but then he shook his head. “No - that was…unnecessary.” He ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture that, Clint realized oddly, reminded him of Steve. That seemed almost weirder than anything else he’d actually seen of the two of them together. “I would expect it would be your preference not to have to.”

“You’re not wrong,” Clint said. “I’d also rather never have figs around, but Nat’s a big fan and I’m not going to make her throw them all out.”

“Are you comparing me to a fruit?” Loki asked, both his eyebrows twitching.

“Okay, maybe bad analogy,” Clint said. “But I think you get the point.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. Loki looked at him until Clint’s skin started to crawl and he wanted to snap _stop looking at me._ That would kind of defeat the purpose of trying to look casual, though.

“I do,” Loki said carefully. There was a faint line between his eyebrows though his expression remained mostly smooth. Loki mostly looked that way when he was trying to hide something, but without Loki in his head Clint was as shit out of luck as anyone else at figuring out what. Well, maybe a little better off than most except Natasha, but still.

“Besides,” Clint added after a moment, “apparently Cap is talking about making you an Avenger, so I’ll have to deal with you being around anyway.”

Loki’s mouth twitched at one corner like he was trying not to grimace. “He did mention as much. I have not agreed to anything.”

Clint studied him. “Seems to me if this Thanos thing is as big a threat as Thor made it sound, we’re going to need all hands.” He was watching closely for it, so he saw the full body flinch on the name, the brief nervous flick away of Loki’s eyes. So that was it, he thought. Loki’s bogeyman. He hadn’t been terribly surprised when Thor had revealed - or talked around revealing - what had happened to Loki. Clint wondered if he knew more about Loki’s scars than Steve did.

That tread dangerously close to the jealousy he didn’t want to admit to having every so often, unwanted, at the back of his mind. Leftovers.

“Perhaps,” Loki said, which was his brushoff. Clint narrowed his eyes.

“Unless you’re planning on making a run for it,” he said coolly. “I guess that’s always an option.”

Loki looked at him, sharp and fierce enough that Clint had to focus on not stepping back. “I am not that much a coward, nor so faithless.”

_Could’ve fooled me_ were the words that popped up, but Clint held it for a beat so he could think better of it, and just shrugged. Loki’s expression tightened and he looked away.

“I would not expect you to be an advocate of the idea,” he said, voice flat.

“I’m not,” Clint said. “But I’m not stupid either.” The moment he’d said it he braced himself, half expecting Loki to sneer. _Aren’t you?_ Something flickered across Loki’s face like he was thinking about it, but then it was gone and he said nothing. Clint’s stomach shifted uneasily and he planted his feet so he didn’t.

_I cannot undo it. There are no amends to be made._

It had felt…weird, that very belated apology. Almost wrong, standing there with Loki staring into the middle distance, nothing smooth in his voice, stumbling over the words, obviously exhausted. Coming down from (another) panic attack. A part of Clint thought _who are you to condemn_ and another part raged against that, _what he did to me, he pulled me apart and made me his plaything, worse, made me_ care _about him._

“It doesn’t change anything,” Clint said abruptly. “But it doesn’t - change nothing, either.”

Loki glanced at him, the look on his face a mixture of weary and bitter. “Pardon?”

Clint tried not to let his shoulders hunch and made a vague gesture. “What you said. At the farm. To me.”

Loki blinked slowly, but this time Clint didn’t think it was because he didn’t know what Clint was talking about. “I am afraid I still do not follow.”

“Never mind,” Clint said, mouth twisting. “It’s - whatever.” He didn’t know how to deal with this. How to deal with a world where Loki was supposed to be on his side, where Loki might be on his team. Where Loki apologized to him and it wasn’t satisfying.

“I would like to know,” Loki said, after a long pause.

“It’s just what I said,” Clint said. “It doesn’t - _fix_ anything.”

“I did not expect that it would.”

“But that doesn’t mean it didn’t, I don’t know, matter.” He shrugged one shoulder. “So. That’s all.” Loki’s eyebrows drew together, the line deepening, looking like Clint was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. It made the back of Clint’s neck itch. “What,” he said, not quite snapped.

“I remember you saying once that - what was it. _The only line between me and my crazy_ was my affection for Steve. That I hadn’t changed, and it was going to break his heart when he realized it.” Loki’s eyes shifted away from him, something odd, almost faraway, about his expression.

Clint shifted, a little uncomfortably. “I did say that.” He remembered that - right after everything with Barnes, when he’d been freaking out about how everyone seemed willing to just forget that he was dangerous, that he’d shot _Natasha._ It’d been the first time he’d been alone in a room with Loki…since, and he’d wanted to crawl out of his skin.

Still, he’d stand by some of the things he’d said. Loki _was_ dangerous and Steve _was_ one of the only things holding him down, and they’d all seen recently what it looked like when Loki lost that. But then, they’d all see what it looked like and Loki hadn’t gone to blow up the planet. Just a lot of HYDRA agents, which Clint wasn’t crying over. Sure, Loki probably would’ve gone down in flames eventually, but he might not have tried to take the world with him.

Loki _was_ changing. What Clint didn’t like was the idea that he might be the one who was stuck, trapped where Loki had put him, the wreckage of what Loki had made him.

The silence stretched out. Loki laughed softly. “You were not wrong,” he said, with a small trace of irony. “Someone should remember it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Clint said wearily. “No one’s going to forget you’re a badass.”

“That is not-”

“Yeah, I know what you meant.” Clint tugged one of his earlobes. What he wanted to ask was _do you know, do you have any idea, actually, what you did to me with that scepter?_ Wanted to ask, and really, really didn’t. “I wasn’t right, either,” he said, at length.

“You were,” Loki said, with cold certainty. “You should know better than most.”

Clint did know, better than most. Knew how bent up and twisted around Loki’s head was, how often he was barely holding the thin veneer of control.

Knew that Loki’d had some kind of twisted affection for him, at least then.

“I know better than most that that’s a shitty excuse to justify giving up,” Clint said roughly.

Loki’s lips pressed together. “Is it giving up to be realistic?”

“I’m not the person to be giving you a pep talk about this,” Clint said flatly. “Don’t get me wrong: I don’t _forgive_ you. We’re not _friends,_ and I don’t care if you feel good about yourself. If you decide to stop trying because it’s _hard,_ that’s just - pathetic.”

For a second when Loki’s jaw tightened Clint thought he’d pushed too hard, but then he huffed a bit of a laugh. “Midgardians. So determinedly obsessed with the idea of choice. I almost hope that you are right.”

“Me too,” Clint said honestly. “I like Steve, and I like Thor, and for some reason they seem to like you. If nothing else, on their behalf I’m not really cheering the prospect of you crashing and burning.”

“What a ringing endorsement,” Loki said dryly.

“You’re welcome.”

Loki turned a little away, but not entirely, and fell quiet. Clint watched his back, waiting, though he couldn’t have said what for. Eventually, Loki sighed. “I…cannot imagine what this is like for you,” he said lowly. “Being required to tolerate the company of an enemy. I venture it is not…enjoyable.”

_You’re damn right you can’t,_ Clint thought, but he held that back too. Along with _if only it were as simple as just hating you._ He looked at Loki’s slightly hunched shoulders. “That’s true.”

“I am certain I would not be tolerating it half so…gracefully, were I in your place,” Loki said, sounding almost ginger. “And I am…grateful for that.”

“Gracefully, huh,” Clint said, lips twitching toward an unwilling smile.

“Relatively,” Loki added after a moment. A flick of his eyes sideways toward Clint, almost like he was asking permission to make the joke.

“Too late,” Clint said. “You said it.” His smile felt a little strained. Ha, ha. Look, we’re getting along.

Had to start somewhere. Maybe it was better than nothing.


	16. Thor - Collapse the Light Into Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Asgard, Thor searches for Loki and Bucky, and hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could really just be "I make Thor cry" because that's all it is. An anon prompted me for alternate POV at some point and I think a lot about Thor in Remember This Cold - what's going on in his head, his feelings, his reactions to things. As he's not a main POV character for that series, though, I don't get to explore a lot of it. That's what these pieces are for. 
> 
> Also I like to make Thor suffer emotional trauma for fun and not profit.

Loki’s rooms in the palace were still untouched, though they smelled faintly of neglect. Thor stood in them as he had after Loki’s fall, waiting as though if he listened hard enough, _willed_ hard enough, his brother might appear - here, in the last place he would come.

“Thor, love,” Frigga said, her voice soft. “Rest.”

Thor turned to look at her. He knew what he must look like, but her wince still pained him. “Mother,” he said, trying not to let his voice crack. “I should go back. Perhaps there has been word-”

“I have told Heimdall you are not to be permitted through the Bifrost until tomorrow.” Her voice was soft but firm. Thor frowned, about to protest that he was not a child, but then his mother went on, “Your presence is comfort to me. Would you rob your mother of that?” and Thor’s resistance crumbled. 

“I will stay,” he said softly. “But only for the night. Then - then I must go. My friends…”

“I know,” she said. “You need them.”

 _They need me,_ Thor had been about to say, but he supposed the other was true as well. He turned away as his eyes started to sting, obscurely ashamed to weep when he knew Frigga’s fear and sorrow was acute as well. He did not want to burden her. Whatever words Loki had spoken - and she would not tell him, exactly - they had wounded her. Or perhaps it was his rejection that wounded her. Thor would have been angry, but it frightened him too much, what it might mean that Loki pushed even his mother’s comfort away. 

Thor took a ragged, shaky breath. “They cannot both be gone,” he said, his voice cracking, very slightly. 

“Ah, Thor…” He heard his mother’s soft footsteps, her hand resting on his arm, and he turned, embracing her, he knew too tightly. She did not protest.

“It is not just,” he said, trying to work up anger that would not come, or would not come strongly enough. “It is not _right._  Steve deserved…Loki deserves…”

“Loki is not lost,” Frigga said. Thor shook his head. 

“But he is,” he said, and hated his own despair, but if he could not say the words to anyone else at least he could say them to Frigga. “You did not see him, mother, after…it was as though he was empty. And now - what lies at the end of this mad vengeance?” 

And Steve. _Steve,_ his dear friend, valiant and so very, very kind - and gone so swiftly. Thor had not protected him and he had not protected Loki and what good was all his strength if all it ever did was _nothing,_ if he could not protect the people who mattered most. He squeezed Frigga tighter and let out a sob.

“I am sorry,” he mumbled. “I should not burden you with…”

“Thor, my son,” Frigga murmured. “My brave boy. I am your mother. It is safe for you to grieve on me. I can bear it.”

A part of Thor must have been waiting for that permission, because with those words he broke, and wept like a child on her shoulder, stormclouds muttering in the distance.


	17. Bucky - Shrapnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck this. Fuck _him_ , the cosmic space asshole who couldn’t keep his brain to himself. Bucky wasn’t letting this happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request was made for Bucky POV of when Loki was taken over (in [Shrapnel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6679255). I like writing Bucky kind of a lot, it turns out. And this particular piece was a lot of fun. 
> 
> Yes I should be working on the long project in this verse, and I am, really, I swear. No, actually, there are currently 18,000 words of it and I haven't even really gotten to the main plot, I'm still setting everything up. Whoops.

There were a lot of things Bucky thought about, in terms of emergency planning. The scenarios he ran all too often started a little like this, with Steve on the other end of the line babbling about something having gone wrong with Loki. _Badly wrong._  There were a whole lot of things that could mean. And he started to say _if you see Loki,_ and then stopped. 

So: Loki wasn’t with Steve. Something had gone ‘wrong’, whatever the hell that meant. Loki had freaked out and bolted? Freaked out about _what?_ Or had someone got to him, maybe from Asgard, or…seemed like it’d have to be Asgard. Unless it was the other thing, this Thanos person. 

What was _he_ supposed to do? 

Bucky was walking a fine edge between panic and something a lot more dangerous when he heard someone coming to his door and yanked it open. Steve looked - wrecked. Wild-eyed and scared and there was a bruise on his jaw, more around his throat. Sick anger grabbed hold of his throat like a fist and Bucky sucked in a breath to control it. “What’s going on,” he said, and it came out more like a growl than a question.

“It’s Loki,” Steve said, looking like he might keel over. “Something happened. He woke up and - attacked me. Then vanished. He hasn’t come here, has he?”

“Attacked you?” Bucky said, thoughts stuttering to a halt. He’d been picturing someone coming for Loki and Steve getting caught in the middle. He _knew_ how Loki was about Steve, that didn’t make any damn _sense._ He looked at the bruising around Steve’s throat again and felt like he’d been dropped back in the freeze chamber. He remembered how it had felt having one of Loki’s hands around his neck.

If Loki had just _snapped,_ somehow-

No, Bucky thought fiercely. That wasn’t how it _worked._ Loki might be fucking crazy but he wasn’t _that_ kind of crazy. 

“And it wasn’t reflexive, not like he was dreaming - it was like he was actually going to kill me,” Steve said, swaying a little. “ _Me._  I don’t - I don’t get - Buck-”

“Come on,” Bucky said, pulling out of his head and grabbing Steve, pulling him in. He glanced back and forth in the hallway, just in case, and walked Steve over to a chair, pushing him down into it. “Has anything like this happened before?” 

It didn’t make _sense._ Why would Loki go for Steve like that, not just panic induced attempt to flee, but going for his throat, _trying to kill._ He trusted Steve on that; he would know. 

“Not like this,” Steve said. 

Something vague and awful crawled into Bucky’s head, and he felt himself tense. His skin crawled. He could think of something that would cause that kind of turn. _Oh, fuck no._  “Did he say anything?” He heard himself ask. “Did anything, anything different happen, right before he-”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “It was - like a switch just flipped.” _A switch._ Bucky’s stomach was trying to twist itself into knots. He knew - he knew someone had contacted Loki in his mind before, when they were on the run. He couldn’t remember all of what Loki had said about it, though. “It wasn’t like a nightmare,” Steve was saying. Bucky’s mouth was full of saliva and he swallowed hard. Activation phrases had to be spoken. Except maybe they didn’t. If you could just tap straight into someone’s _brain-_

Loki could do that. He’d used it to undo HYDRA’s shit. Who else could do something like that, maybe, fuck, he remembered Loki saying-

_They did not control me. They could rip open my mind and paw through my thoughts but my will remained my own._

What if he was wrong? The best conditioning you didn’t even know it was there until the handler set it off.

 _“_ Has Loki. Uh. Has he ever said anything about anyone mucking around in his head?”

Steve’s head jerked up, and by the dawning look of horror on his face, he got it. “You think this was some kind of programming?” 

Something in Bucky’s head was screaming _they can’t fucking have me back._ “I think it seems likely,” he said. “If this - Thanos did as thorough a number on Loki as it seems like–” Bucky deadened his voice and tried to deaden everything else, too. It worked, sort of. “It’d surprise me if there wasn’t some kind of fail-safe if Loki tried to go rogue.” 

The blood drained out of Steve’s face and his breathing hitched. He bent forward, and it took Bucky a second but then he recognized what was happening. A moment longer he wavered, not sure what to do, but the old instincts were still there and he let it pull him over, put his hand on Steve’s back and reminded him to breathe. His mind was racing, though. Thinking through everything he knew about Thanos. Pathetically little. And Loki was-

They couldn’t beat him in a fight. Not a full on one. He hadn’t killed Steve which meant there was something more important to do, but he _could,_ Bucky had seen what he could do. 

Something more important to do. 

“He could be anywhere,” Steve said, despair in his voice. 

“Not necessarily,” Bucky said slowly, glad that on this one thing he’d been kept updated. “There’s still something on this planet we know he wants.” Loki didn’t like the robot, Bucky knew that. Could _he_ deal with…

What would ‘deal with’ look like?

 _Good morning,_ soldat.

“Go get one of Stark’s planes,” Bucky said. “I’ll meet you there.” It wasn’t a question.  Fuck this. Fuck _him,_ the cosmic space asshole who couldn’t keep his brain to himself. 

Bucky wasn’t letting this happen.

* * *

Absurdly, Bucky’s first thought when he was lying in the wreckage of the bookshelf he’d just gone through was that Loki was _definitely_ holding back in sparring. Bucky’d barely had time to blink before Loki had a hand around his neck (hey, here again) and just pitched him across the room like a rag doll. 

He felt his ribs crack along with the drywall and all he could do was lie there, dazed, Steve yelling something and Loki-

(eyes a blank slate, practically an automaton, Bucky wondered if he was aware at all or if he was completely gone, and there was a thought, what if this wasn’t just a trigger but a full fucking _wipe_ )

By the time the ringing in his head stopped and he could start prying himself off the floor, it was over and Loki was down, crumpled in a heap on the floor with the robot bending over him. A coppery taste flooded Bucky’s mouth as he thought _dead._

“What did you do,” Steve asked. “Is he-” He choked on the last word. 

“Fine,” the robot said, sounding like he was trying to be reassuring. Well, Bucky thought dizzily, that was something. Even if he doubted _fine_ was the right word. You weren’t _fine,_ you weren’t ever _fine,_ you could be _functioning_ but you’d always know that your head wasn’t yours anymore.

God dammit, his hands were going to be full of splinters.

“Buck,” Steve said, as he staggered over, holding onto his ribs and taking careful, shallow breaths. “Are you-”

“Had worse,” he said, trying to pull up a smile. Steve could only take one broken person at a time. “Few cracked ribs, s’all. Really hits hard, doesn’t he?”

“You can say that again,” Steve said, brushing some of Loki’s hair off his face. 

Even up close Loki looked sort of dead. Limp, his face bloodless. Bucky wondered vaguely if that was what he’d looked like when HYDRA had tripped his kill switch. _They’re out,_ he reminded himself. _Loki made sure of it, he pulled out everything they did and locked the doors._ Apparently he couldn’t do that for himself. 

 _This was the easy part,_ Bucky thought grimly. The hard part was going to be the fear that got inside and didn’t leave, _is this me or is this them._ He remembered the first couple weeks, when he thought he would’ve put a bullet in his head just to make it stop. 

“He’s not going to be happy,” he said to Steve. Understatement.

“I know,” Steve said. His voice sounded heavy. 

 _Don’t you dare run,_ Bucky thought fiercely, mostly to Loki but a little to himself. He wanted to. Right now he thought he wanted to run himself into the ground until he was too exhausted to think. Choices. They had _choices._

HYDRA couldn’t take that. _Thanos_ couldn’t take that. 

He’d just have to make sure Loki got that. 

It’d help if he believed it, first.


	18. Natasha - only when you hit the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is always planning for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this self indulgent? Oh yeah, it totally is. In my defense, it _was_ for someone else's prompt.

The closer they got, the more Natasha wondered whether Steve had considered all possible scenarios. She’d spent a lot of time considering them, because she figured the answer was probably no, he hadn’t. Probably couldn’t let himself contemplate the possibility that they might find a dead body at the end of the line.

Natasha had to think about it, though. Plan for damage control. How she’d get Steve out, how to manage Thor, and they couldn’t just leave the body: who knew what Doom might be able to do with it? 

No matter how she sliced it, though, there was no way that Loki being dead would be anything but a nightmare.

So she was relieved when they heard Doom’s voice, talking to _someone,_ and while she wouldn’t put it past Doom to talk to an empty room…it was at least a semi-hopeful sign. She edged forward, relieved that Steve had let her take the lead. It meant whatever they were looking at, she’d know first. 

She checked the exits first - only one, which made things both easier and harder. Easy to get boxed in but fewer entry points to watch. She spotted the cameras pretty fast, too, but that’d be easy too. No guards and no Doombots, at least not visible. And no real Doom either. 

Threats assessed, Natasha looked for Loki. He wasn’t hard to spot. The one spot of red in an otherwise sterile room. 

She bit the inside of her cheek hard so she didn’t make a sound. She could see his arms stretched out crucifixion style (bolted to the table, through the hands. That would be bad enough - and there was something weird about the color of his skin, it looked _blue_ \- but there were bigger concerns to deal with. 

Like the fact that Loki’s entire rib cage had been opened like a pair of double doors, and oh god. Oh, _god._

Natasha had seen a lot of things done to human bodies. This probably wasn’t even the worst. The horror was overtaken by a kind of resigned grief. _Oh, Steve._  

Well, she thought, looking away from what must have been the last stages of Doom’s dissection. At least, she thought grimly, he hadn’t lasted for long. That was probably a kind of mercy.

“What,” Steve said sharply. “What is it?” 

She couldn’t find the words to answer. Steve shouldered past her and to the ledge and she heard him suck in a breath through his teeth. Natasha wavered, wondering if she should reach out or leave it alone, wait for Steve to ask. 

“He’s alive,” Steve said, his voice shaking, and Natasha’s stomach lurched. She pressed forward again, looking closer, and oh, shit, yes. She could see very slight movements. Alive. 

And _now_ Natasha felt sick. 

Steve lurched forward and she grabbed onto his arm. “Steve, wait,” she said. He looked at her with an expression of utter betrayal and she wanted to wince. “If Loki’s lasted this long he’ll last a little longer,” she made herself say. “Wait for the signal.”

Loki lasted this long. Like that. No, she realized, Doom wouldn’t just kill his prize specimen. He’d want it to _last._ Get as much use out of it as possible. Some grim part of Natasha’s brain wondered if any of her contingency plans would even have worked, if it’d come to that.

“We’re in position,” Clint’s voice came through their comms. “Looks like Doom’s taken the bait.” Steve was already gone, though, jumped down even before Clint finished the first sentence. “Status, Nat?” Clint asked, after just a moment. 

“Ugly,” she said. “But Loki’s alive.”

“Looking at Thor, we’d all better hope he stays that way,” Clint said, a note both grim and nervous in his voice. Natasha leapt down after Steve, who looked like he was standing in a nightmare. 

“Let’s hope,” she said.


	19. Natasha - This Is My Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha talks to Sif, trying to get a handle on the current situation in Asgard.

“This way,” Sif said, not quite shortly. Natasha glanced once more at Steve, who was looking at the Queen a little like a deer facing down a car, and turned to follow. It wasn’t like she could insist on staying, and Steve could probably handle himself. 

“Sorry you’re getting stuck with escort duty,” Natasha murmured, trying to keep at least one eye on everything around her, though even for her it was hard not to feel overwhelmed. Sif’s shoulders locked. 

“It is an honor,” she said stiffly. Natasha glanced at her, choosing her words carefully. She got the impression Thor’s friend was a little prickly, maybe. 

“Hypothetically, sure,” she said. “But I get the impression you’re used to something other than just ceremonial duties.” Sif struggled, visibly, with how to respond to that. Natasha almost felt sorry for her. 

“I do not mean to offend,” she said finally. Natasha snorted. 

“I’m not offended. I wouldn’t want to be in your place.” She shrugged. “Still. It is good to meet you. Thor talks about you a lot.” 

Sif’s expression flickered oddly. “We have been good friends for a very long time.” Still stiff. Maybe she was just always like that - or maybe Sif felt threatened by her in some way. That seemed unlikely, though. Natasha got the impression the Aesir wouldn’t feel threatened by human beings even if maybe they should. 

“Are you really the only female warrior on Asgard?” Natasha asked, testing. Sif stiffened further. 

“There are many shieldmaidens among the Vanir. The All-Mother herself was one in her youth,” she said, sounding unmistakably defensive. “And other Aesir women in the past have taken up the sword.”

Natasha let her lips quirk. “I’m not criticizing _you,”_ she said. “It’d be a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Sif blinked, and then flushed, relaxing very slightly. “I suppose so,” she said, and then exhaled. “I am sorry. I have not been…things are tense.” 

“So I gather,” Natasha said, a little dryly. Sif gave her a quick look, but her lips twitched, so apparently the sarcasm carried. 

“That is no cause for me to be churlish, however,” she said. “You are a guest, and Thor’s friend besides.”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s tough times for everyone,” she said. “I won’t hold it against you.” She eyed Sif. “The Queen was…a shieldmaiden, you said?” 

Sif’s expression brightened. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Before she laid down her sword and armor, she was known as a skilled warrior in her own right.” _I hope she doesn’t run Steve through for dating her baby boy,_ Natasha thought, but kept it to herself. She had no idea how widespread that knowledge was, even among Thor’s friends, and it was probably better to keep it as limited as possible. 

“Good role model for a young woman looking to buck the system,” she murmured instead. Sif looked at her blankly, and Natasha adjusted, “looking to do something different from others.” 

“Oh,” Sif said, “Well…yes. The All-Mother was very…good to me, when I began training.”

“You already knew Thor, then?” 

“I met Thor when I was beginning,” Sif said. Natasha waited, but she didn’t elaborate. 

“What was he like, then?” Natasha asked. “He doesn’t talk a whole lot about that time. When he was a kid.” She could guess why, and it started with _L._ Thor was…sensitive to that, to the perils of mentioning Loki - and Loki was a pretty large part of Thor’s childhood. Sif hesitated visibly.

“He was…” She paused, struggling again. Natasha got the feeling diplomacy was not Sif’s strong suit.

“An asshole?” She suggested. Sif gave her a startled look, and Natasha half-smiled. “He’s not _our_ prince. And he’s more or less said as much.” 

“Yes,” Sif said after a moment, lowering her voice a little. “He was that.” She paused, glanced over her shoulder, and added, “the first time we met we ended up brawling. I won - though I think mostly due to his surprise,” she added quickly. Charitably, Natasha thought. “And Loki-”

She stopped, several very quick expressions passing over her face as her lips clamped together. Natasha waited, letting the silence become conspicuous before prompting, “and Loki?”

Sif said nothing. She looked angry with herself - or maybe just angry. Natasha considered and discarded options. 

“It’s weird,” she said honestly. “Hearing anyone talk about him so casually. It’s easy to forget, from my perspective, all the history there. Here.” 

Sif stared straight ahead, making her expression hard to read. “It is strange for me as well.” Natasha could tell there was more, and waited; indeed after only a moment Sif burst out, “I do not want Loki dead. I believe Thor thinks - but he is _wrong._ I want Asgard to be safe. I want _Thor_ to be safe. And Loki…I do not know.” Sif looked at Natasha, her eyebrows drawn together. “None of this is honorable.”

“You’re not wrong.” Natasha cocked her head at Sif. “You’re not used to that, are you?” 

Sif’s shoulders tensed. “I am no naïf,” she said, stiff again. 

“That’s not what I meant. Only that you’re not usually one for the politics game. You’ve just gotten pulled into this because of Thor.” 

“I am loyal to the All-Father,” Sif said, somewhat obscurely. Natasha raised her eyebrows. 

“That’s good to hear, but not what I asked,” she said. “I’m not trying to trap you, Lady Sif. Just trying to get a sense for what’s going on here.”

After a long silence Sif stopped walking and turned toward her again with a sigh. “Much has been thrown out of balance, since Thor’s banishment,” she said at length. “And it has only become…more so. With Loki fallen from grace and Thor so much away, there is…a space for those who would climb to greater power.”

Natasha frowned. “So what, these factions might be looking to topple Odin?” 

Sif looked horrified. “No! That would be - or at least I do not think Njord is so mad.” Natasha noted that reaction, and remembered what Loki had said about Odin. So he wasn’t just a ruler; it seemed like to Asgard he was almost - well, a god among gods. She wondered how widespread that belief truly was - if the cracks in the foundation that Loki (and Thor, to be fair) had exposed were weakening that illusion.

“But they are trying to weaken him. Grab power for themselves.”

Sif nodded, after a moment, her eyes flicking around them. Natasha gave Sif a sidelong look. “Personal opinion: what do you think our chances are of getting everyone out of this in one piece?” Sif glanced away, and Natasha felt her lips twist. “That bad?”

“I do not know,” Sif said. “It is not _good.”_

Natasha ran her fingers through her hair. “Well,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “I’ve worked with worse.”

Sif’s expression was very faintly curious. “That sounds like a tale.”

“Not just one,” Natasha said. “Maybe when this is over I’ll even tell you.”

The smile was very weak, but it was there. “I think I might like that.”


	20. Jane - post-the water is getting colder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane in Wakanda, having a conversation a long time in the waiting.

Jane heard the door open, but she didn’t glance over. “This is fascinating, Nkeoma,” Jane said, not looking up. “What you’ve done here - it’s incredible. Why haven’t you published this?” She couldn’t help but be a little jealous, deep down, but there was excitement, too. What Professor Adeyemi was doing would put them a long way closer to building their own Einstein-Rosen Bridge. Or at least, it could.

“What is fascinating?”

Jane jumped almost a foot in the air and scrambled to her feet. Loki regarded her mildly, eyebrows lifted a fraction, the picture of polite curiosity. A little too perfectly the picture of. Jane stiffened.

She hadn’t exactly been _avoiding_ him. Or, all right, maybe she had been. But personally Jane thought that was fair. She might be interested in picking Loki’s brain, but she wasn’t sure she was interested _enough_ to…put up with Loki.

Oh, they’d barely interacted. And even less since his apparent change that had led to becoming Steve Rogers’ boyfriend, with the one exception of that brief and awful period of time when they’d thought Steve was dead. Jane didn’t think that really counted. Loki had barely been there at all.

So maybe it was unfair to judge him by a few interactions years ago when he’d been a different person, but Jane had never had the feeling that Loki had changed the way he regarded her in the slightest: vague disdain at best, and barely cordial dislike in general.

She didn’t hate him, or anything. But she wasn’t particularly thrilled to see him here, either.

“What are you doing here?” She blurted out, which probably wasn’t a good way to start off, but Loki’s eyebrows just twitched like he was both amused and not particularly surprised. That just annoyed her.

“Visiting,” Loki said. “I thought I should…say hello.”

Jane crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Is that all?”

Loki studied her for a long moment, then crossed into the lab and sat down. “Yes, actually,” he said, demeanor changing very slightly. He didn’t exactly relax, but something seemed to drop away; Jane wondered if it was genuine. “I also thought I should…thank you.”

Jane blinked. “For what?”

Loki shrugged one shoulder. “Sam Wilson informs me that you offered your assistance when Steve and I were…taken.”

Jane bit her lip. “I didn’t do much.”

“Nonetheless,” Loki said with a little flick of his fingers. “You tried.” He smiled faintly. “I doubt it was for my sake, but the effort is appreciated just the same.”

Jane sat down, slowly. “It wasn’t…not,” she said, a little awkwardly. Loki cocked his head, but she decided to leave it at that. “Well…you’re welcome.” She dredged up a smile. “Really, it’s been a great opportunity for me. Working in Wakanda is kind of a dream come true, for a scientist.”

The corner of Loki’s lips twitched. “Well then, I am glad to have enabled it.”

Jane eyed him, hesitating, not sure she wanted to ask. But… “Thor,” she said slowly, watching carefully for any sign of a backlash. “Have you…”

Loki looked away, something briefly flashing across his face. “Heard from him? No. I fear that…” He stopped, abruptly, and turned back to her. “You know Thor,” he said, with a too-glib smile. “He would fight a battle alone against an army, and probably win.”

It wasn’t convincing. Jane’s stomach sank a little. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it.” She could see him thinking. Trying to decide how much to tell her, she thought, and Jane felt another spike of annoyance. “Don’t try to keep things from me. I can take it.”

Loki’s eyes fixed on her. “There is trouble in Asgard,” he said, voice flattening. “And no way to reach it. It is…cut off. And there are…claims that it has fallen.” His right hand flexed. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

Jane rocked back. It wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. But she’d already known, deep down, that something was wrong. This just confirmed it. She lifted her chin. “I’m not giving up on Thor.”

“Did I say that I was?” Loki sat back, his expression smoothing out again. She could see it, this time: the deliberate masking of worry, of fear.

Things really had changed, she realized. It was subtle, but there were differences to his face that were clearer now. Less tension around his eyes and mouth. More expression, not trying so hard to box himself in. And he was doing a fair job hiding it, but he seemed…uncomfortable. Awkward.

“It’s not just me,” she burst out. Loki’s eyebrows rose.

“Pardon?”

“I mean-” Jane could feel her face warming. “It’s not just that I’ve been avoiding you. You’ve been avoiding _me._ Right? Because you don’t know how to act with me other than being an asshole.”

Loki’s lips thinned. “I do not typically press my company where it is not wanted.”

“You haven’t exactly tried being friendly,” Jane said, a little caustically. “And you haven’t made _my_ company feel very ‘wanted’ either.”

“I do not know anything about you,” Loki said stiffly.

“Really,” Jane said dryly. “You’re admitting that?” Loki stiffened, and Jane felt a little bad. If this was an attempt to extend an olive branch, it would probably behoove her to be gracious about it.

And…it was true that Loki _knew_ things. A lot of things, based on what Thor had said - he’d been a scholar, once upon a time. Maybe a kind of scientist. There might be a lot she could learn, if Loki would talk to her.

She’d worked with less knowledgeable people, some of whom she’d liked less.

Oddly, Loki seemed to have turned to studying his left hand, thumb rubbing against his ring finger in what looked like a strange sort of nervous gesture. “You are…important to Thor,” he said, lips twisting a little. He paused, and then added, “and…Ms. Maximoff speaks highly of you.”

Jane blinked. Sam was right - Wanda _was_ a sweetheart - but Jane hadn’t expected that she’d put in a good word to Loki. She hadn’t even known that Wanda and Loki were particularly close, but that he apparently valued her opinion…

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“If you wish,” Loki said, even more stiffly, “you may…ask what questions you wish. Thor has hinted you might want as much. And if we are to find a way to reach him, your help may be…invaluable.” Jane blinked, and Loki flicked his wrist in an odd gesture, a card appearing in his hand that might have been sleight of hand. She didn’t think so, though. Jane was almost tempted to ask him to do it again. “Send any inquiries here and I shall receive them.”

She expected a mailing address; funnily enough, it was an email. Jane almost wanted to laugh. “All right,” she said slowly. Loki nodded, not quite curt, and stood. Jane hesitated, then said in a rush, “I am in the building once a week or so. If you wanted to actually, you know. Talk in person.”

Loki turned and stared at her, and Jane set her jaw, almost regretting making the offer. After a long moment, though, he nodded. Barely.

“That might be…pleasant,” he said, which was probably about as much as she was going to get.

“Right,” she said, now awkward herself. “I’ll…let you know. And…see you then.” Loki nodded again, fractionally, and turned. Some impulse made her add, “we’ll find him.”

Loki paused, once again. “Yes,” he said after a moment, something odd in his voice that made some part of Jane want to shiver. “We will.”


	21. Bucky - Collapse the Light Into Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has to sleep sometimes. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on Tumblr asked for a fic with Bucky helping Loki with a panic attack, and this isn't...probably exactly what they meant, but I wrote it anyway. Takes place during the not-so-excellent roadtrip during [Collapse the Light Into Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070674).
> 
> Everyone's sad, it's great.

So it turned out Loki did have to sleep sometimes.

Which, all right, he’d known that, but a part of him was still surprised when he realized Loki wasn’t just lying there with his eyes closed but was actually _asleep._ Probably a good thing. He’d been looking crazier around the eyes than usual.

Not that Bucky could talk.

Left him at a bit of loose ends, though. He wandered around the place - Loki had tried, vaguely, to explain what it was, but Bucky didn’t follow much of the explanation and wasn’t sure he really wanted to. If he thought too much about the fact that he was squatting in a place probably made out of magic in between universes, he thought he might lose what sanity he still had.

He was doing a lot of _not thinking_ these days. Too many things to _not think_ about, things that’d drown him if he dwelled.

He went back and looked at Loki again, just to make sure he was still there. Still sleeping.

Going through some of the drawers yielded some stuff that might’ve been interesting if he’d known what any of it was for. He wondered if Loki had stayed here before, and if so, when. There were still a lot of holes in what he knew about Loki’s history. He wasn’t about to ask, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, didn’t want to fill in the elephant sized gaps in the facts in between Loki’s attack on New York and…meeting Steve.

The flinch wasn’t quite physical. _Coward._

He found something that looked sort of like a checkers board in one of the cabinets, but no pieces. He wished he had a lump of clay to work with. Or someone to beat up. Revenge wasn’t as satisfying as he wanted it to be, but it filled the void. And it let him keep an eye on Loki, which was about the last useful thing he could do. What Steve would want, maybe.

Steve, who should be alive. He should’ve been there. Should’ve…

Bucky looked sharply toward Loki, instincts prickling a warning. Loki twitched slightly, shifted, inhaling unsteadily. Then he fell still again. Bucky frowned, drumming his metal fingers on the table. It wasn’t quiet, but Loki didn’t wake up. Maybe that was a good thing.

Except the uneasy feeling hadn’t gone, and while Bucky might not trust his instincts about much, he trusted them about danger. He remembered what Loki had said about nightmares and wondered, suddenly, what it looked like when someone with magic had bad dreams.

“Loki,” he said, lowly but not quietly. Loki twitched again, his expression tightening. Which was about all the warning Bucky had before he started howling.

Bucky lurched to his feet. It sounded like someone _dying,_ and he took a half step toward Loki only to stop dead when he realized that his hands were glowing. _Fuck._ “Loki!” He said more loudly. “Loki, _wake up!”_

He had no illusions about what could happen if he did something stupid like shaking Loki’s shoulder. He’d almost had his throat crushed by Loki once; he wasn’t in a hurry to do it again. The air tasted like lightning, though, and it occurred to Bucky that Loki wouldn’t have to touch him to kill him. He hovered, uncertain, _useless._

“Goddammit, Loki-”

The screaming cut off, and Loki’s eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to be seeing much, breathing in ragged little gasps and shaking. Bucky swallowed hard.

“You awake,” he said, not going closer just yet. Water, he thought. Get some water.

“Steve?” Loki said, his voice wobbly, and oh, _fuck_ no. Bucky felt sick for a half second, and then embarrassed, like he’d peeped at something he wasn’t supposed to see.

He swallowed hard twice before saying, “it’s me.”

Loki’s breathing hitched. He let out a faint sound. “Barnes,” he said wearily. The disappointment in his voice hurt, even if Bucky couldn’t blame him. He knew what he was. And what he wasn’t. Hell, he’d be disappointed too.

“Yeah,” he said, when he was sure he could keep his voice steady. “You were…dreaming.”

“Indeed,” Loki said, in a tone like _no shit_ that made Bucky’s hackles go up. He pushed them back down. He still sounded shaky, not all there. Bucky knew where to find the glasses and filled one with water - another thing he didn’t want to think about too much, where the water came from. He went over and held it out.

“You’re still…glowing,” he pointed out. Loki looked down at his hands and blinked.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s…that hasn’t happened in a long time.” He shook himself and looked at Bucky, from the glass to his face, before taking it. He didn’t drink, though, just sat there and stared.

“Hey,” he said roughly. “It’s over.”

“You know better than that,” Loki said roughly. Bucky tried not to flinch.

“I can see why you can’t sleep,” he said, sitting down next to him after a long pause. Loki sort of bobbed his head with a humorless smile, head hanging forward so Bucky couldn’t see his face.

“I am so tired sometimes,” he said, though it didn’t sound like he necessarily meant for it to be heard. More loudly, he added, “like you said. Nothing really goes away.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked, though he suspected he knew the answer. Loki shuddered.

“Not particularly.”

Bucky shrugged, feeling his mouth twist. “I don’t blame you.”

“It is only dreams,” Loki said, like he was trying to convince himself. Bucky didn’t think it worked. It wasn’t convincing _him._ After a moment he drew himself up. “My apologies. It won’t happen again.”

_You’ll have to sleep eventually,_ Bucky thought, but he didn’t say it. There wasn’t much point. “Too bad I can’t do that trick you offered me,” he said instead.

Loki laughed, a sort of stuttering, slightly hysterical sound. “Yes,” he said. “Pity.”

They sat there in silence for a while.


	22. Tony Stark - don't care if heaven won't take me back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I recently prompted alternate POV prompts because everything long I'm working on has been a pain in the ass, and tumblr user the-mundivagant asked me for Tony's point-of-view either during the scene on the RAFT or in general about his deteriorating relationship with all things Loki. I went for the latter, because it's something I have thought a fair amount about - and also it's fun to explore the point of views of characters I may not agree with and who (like Tony) don't often get to speak for themselves.
> 
> Enjoy.

_He was standing on a shattered rock in space. His right arm was broken, his armor dented so it was hard to move. Dust - ash - choked him, but what held him frozen were the bodies strewn around him, lying like broken dolls. All of them. Thor, Natasha, Clint. Steve, Bruce. Rhodey._

_And one person still standing, head cocked to the side and one eyebrow quirked. Half smiling, greyish-green eyes cold._

_“Always the last one standing,” Loki said. “While better men die.”_

_“You,” Tony snarled, and brought one arm up to fire a repulsor, but Loki flicked his wrist lazily and his armor just - shut down. Like it had in Naples._

_“You broke so easily, in the end,” Loki said almost lazily. “You thought you could tame me.” His eyes flicked toward Steve, the shield shattered, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. “He did. But I never was._

_“All I ever wanted was to watch the universe burn.”_

Tony woke up gasping, his heart racing. He glanced to the other side of the bed, but Pepper was gone; she was gone a lot lately. He rubbed his hands down his face. The same nightmare. It kept coming back.

He rolled out of bed and went down to the lab.

It hadn’t been some kind of  _vision_ or  _foretelling._ Tony wasn’t stupid, and he didn’t believe in fortunetelling. But.  _But._

Loki had always been dangerous. He’d known that from the get-go, like all of them had known it, except maybe Steve who had too big a heart for his own good. But then it’d sort of…faded away into the background, the longer Loki lived in their midst seemingly doing nothing but keeping to himself and seducing Steve Rogers. The constant vigilance had eased and they’d all started acting like it was just…normal. They’d all bought into it, that Loki’d turned over a new leaf, made a change.

What was that saying about leopards and spots?

Tony remembered looking at the first report of a HYDRA base, everyone in it dead. He’d looked through the photographs, and all right, he wasn’t going to cry about a bunch of crypto-Nazis getting what they deserved, but as the reports rolled in and the body count rose Tony was very suddenly staring at the realization that they had  _no idea_ what Loki was capable of. They’d  _never_ had any idea what he was capable of. They didn’t know  _a single fucking thing_ about what Loki could do.

In New York, Tony realized, they’d barely scratched the surface. For whatever reason, and it was a question Tony had periodically worried at over the years, Loki had barely even tried. He could’ve killed Tony on the spot using his bare hand rather than throwing him out the window. He could have torn Steve to shreds in Germany.

Very suddenly, Tony had remembered when HYDRA had gone after Steve in D.C. and he’d been trying to stop Loki from going after him, the way that for just a second Tony had thought Loki would attack him. If Bruce hadn’t been there…

The ease in Naples when Loki had shut down his armor like swatting a fly.

All the nightmare had done was remind Tony of what he should’ve thought of before. The first time around, Loki hadn’t attacked them head on, not at first. No, he’d weaseled his way into their midst and tried to rip them apart from within. It hadn’t worked, but then they’d known not to trust him. Now…

And now they knew there was some other player. Something bigger and nastier, and Loki’d been working with him before, and how did they know,  _how did they know_ that he wouldn’t do it again to save himself?

They couldn’t. They didn’t.

Tony unlocked one of the storage lockers with his fingerprint and pulled out the device inside. There hadn’t been much left of Doom’s castle when Thor was done with it, and originally Tony had just gone looking to make sure there was nothing anyone else could use, because Doom was psychotic and they didn’t need another one of those picking up where he’d left off. Some things he had gotten rid of without saying anything.

Other things…something had held him back, and Tony thought now it’d been some instinct,  _you might need this._ He’d modified it, adapted it. The first real trial had been with the scepter, seeing whether he could keep it hidden because damned if he was letting Loki get close to it again. It wasn’t like he could test it in the other direction, the one they might really need.

He hadn’t told anyone. Maybe he could trust Natasha to keep it to herself, to understand, but even she’d been softening. It seemed better to keep it secret, keep it in reserve, a weapon he’d hopefully never need.

_If Steve knew…_

No. Much as he wanted to, Tony couldn’t trust Steve. Not with this.

Lately he wondered if he could trust Steve with anything. He wanted to, but between Barnes and Loki…

Too big a heart for his own good. And Loki had slithered his way into it.

Tony looked down at his work and thought again the question he always had when he woke up from that nightmare.

_If it came down to it, would we be able to stop him?_

* * *

It was amazing,  _really_ amazing, how quickly everything could go to shit.

Twenty-four hours and Steve had gone rogue, the Winter Soldier was on the loose - with Loki, to boot, Tony didn’t know anyone else who could break metal like that - and the Avengers had splintered into fucking  _factions._ Oh, and apparently the wonder twins had beaten up Vision and bolted, too. With Clint’s help.

Yeah, this was just going great.

It didn’t get better from there, in part,  _thanks, Ross,_ to the untimely intervention of soldiers interrupting his attempt to talk Steve off a ledge. On the bright side, his anti-magic weapon worked, and Vision knocked Loki flat. On the less bright side, Steve and Barnes slipped away in the confusion. Oh, yeah, and Natasha had Tasered the King of Wakanda so they could.

Three-quarters of the (former) Avengers in custody. Ross called to congratulate him, and Tony just felt vaguely ill.

“What’re you going to do with them,” he asked, rubbing the massive bruise on his chest where Loki had punched him. “You’re just holding them, right?”

Ominous silence.

“Let me rephrase that,” Tony said. “You’re just holding them. For trial. They’re US citizens, Ross, you can’t just-”

“Barton, Wilson, and Lang are,” Ross interrupted. “The Maximoffs aren’t.”

“They’ve got visas. They’re here legally.” Sort of. “And they’re Avengers, too.”

“Not anymore.”

 _Asshole._ “They’re not threats now. You can keep them contained without hurting them.” He paused. “Sokovia loves them. Word gets out that anything’s happened to them…”

Ross grunted.  _Good enough,_ Tony thought. Maybe optimistically.

Oh, yeah. And then there was the other thing.

“And what about Loki?” Silence, again. “Jesus. You haven’t already killed him, have you?” Fuck. That would be - really bad. Wherever Thor was, if he got back and found out Loki’d been executed…

Tony wouldn’t bet on Ross living for long.

He didn’t think Thor would stop there, either. He’d go looking for whoever’d sent Loki to his death, and yeah, Tony was pretty sure he knew who that’d be.

“No,” Ross said.

“So what  _are_ you planning to do?”

Quiet for a moment. “I understand,” Ross said, “that the research potential-”

“Oh, fuck no,” Tony said. Loki was dangerous, Loki was bad news, but Ross said  _research potential_ and Tony was back in Latveria with Loki looking like he’d gone three rounds with a freshman anatomy course.

“You don’t give me orders, Mr. Stark.”

“No,” Tony said, talking fast, “but I can give you suggestions, and let me tell you before you start sharpening your knives that the last person who tried that? Name rhymed with ‘boom’ which was about the noise it made when Thor  _demolished his castle and smashed his head in._ And yeah, say whatever you want about Thor being bound to the Accords, but he hasn’t signed yet and he’s not exactly the most  _restrained_ person, so unless you really want to get up close and personal with that hammer of his, I’m going to recommend you stop thinking about ‘research potential.’”

“I don’t appreciate being blackmailed,” Ross said after a long moment.

“It’s not blackmail. Just honesty.” Tony tapped his fingers on his leg. “Do whatever the hell you want with him otherwise, I don’t care. But don’t kill him. I’m thinking of me as much as you, here.”

Ross hung up without agreeing. Tony stared out the window.

_Goddammit, Steve._

“Tony Stark,” said Vision’s voice, and he turned around hard.

“What,” he said, maybe a little bitterly. “Are you leaving too?”

“No,” Vision said after a moment. It was hard to tell, but he seemed miserable.  _Guess even androids can feel like rotten traitors._

 _This isn’t_ your  _fault._

“Then what,” Tony snapped.

“There is…something I need to tell you,” he said. “I should have told you before, but…Steve Rogers asked me not to.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Did he now.”

“It has to do with Loki.”

Oh, Tony thought, listening. Oh,  _fuck._

Anger boiled up.  _Steve, you selfish fucking idiot._

At least he didn’t feel guilty anymore.


End file.
